


Lost Sheep

by ShirleyAnn66



Category: Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: Dub-con scene that quickly resolves itself, F/M, I'll add warnings to chapters as needed, Mentions of Blood, Non-Graphic Violence, another old old old fic, dark themes, non-graphic deaths of children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-04 16:26:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 44,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShirleyAnn66/pseuds/ShirleyAnn66
Summary: Beck finally gets a lead on the location of his wife and daughter and leaves Jericho to find them.  To his dismay, Heather decides he needs help and refuses to let him go alone.  This is their journey.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** No, no, even if I ask Santa nicely, I probably still won't own Jericho, just like I don't own it now. (Bummer). Just having a little fun - not profit - and all characters will be returned safe and sound.

*/*/*/*/*

Beck hadn't realized how much he depended on Heather until she stopped being there.

She had waited with him while his commanders determined his fate, but she quickly made it clear to him that - while she was glad he wouldn't be returned to Cheyenne and summarily executed for treason - her support and loyalty to him was over.

Beck didn't blame her. He had, after all, imprisoned and abused her friend - and the man she loved. He knew she hadn't taken the paper from his office because Hawkins convinced her - she had done it for Jake. He didn't like to think about how that fact made him feel. It didn't matter anymore, anyway.

Beck took a thoughtful sip of his scotch. It had been three months since the fateful day he had tossed his lot in with Jericho. Three months of trying to repair the damage caused to the relationship between Beck and the town. People didn't blame his men - they blamed him. He understood. It was part of his job, part of his rank, part of being the face of authority. He didn't really mind not being welcome in Bailey's - but losing Heather's friendship and support - that hurt more than he cared to admit.

He rubbed his nose and remembered how Jake had promptly given Beck a black eye and a bloody nose when Jake had returned from Texas only a week after Beck's defection. Beck let Jake give him the beating, right there on Main Street, defending himself only enough to ensure no grievous bodily harm occurred.

"I owe you that," Beck said, after Jake paused, panting and glaring at him. Beck winced as he touched the blood coming from his nose. He glanced around at the crowd. Leave it to Jake, he thought ruefully, to pick the most public and dramatic moment.

Beck's eyes briefly met Heather's, and then he turned back to Jake, who was coming at him again. This time, he blocked the punch and with a few sharp moves, he had Jake face down in the street, his knee in the small of Jake's back. Beck leaned down and whispered in Jake's ear, "I owed you a few punches - but no more. You can kill me later, but right now we have to work together. You need me. You need my men."

Jake groaned under Beck's weight and then Beck abruptly released him, standing up. Jake leapt to his feet and turned to face Beck, his eyes wild. For one suspended moment, Beck knew that it was either him or Jake - Jake would try to kill him, and then his men would try to kill Jake - and Jericho would go up in flames.

" _Jake!_ "

Both men turned sharply to look at Heather, her eyes wide and beseeching as she stared at Jake.

"Don't," she begged.

Beck knew she wasn't pleading for his safety, but for Jake's. Her feelings were written all over her face whenever she looked at the town's prodigal son. Jake hesitated, but he was unable to resist the appeal in Heather's eyes. He turned back to Beck.

"Fine," Jake spat, "we do need you. For now." He strode forward, getting in Beck's face. "But you are not welcome here. And there will come a point when we don't need you. And then - "

Jake glared at him and Beck stared coldly back.

"Do you understand me?" Jake demanded.

Beck cocked his head and stared Jake down. "Of course," he replied, his voice crisp and carrying to the onlookers. "But until then - we are fighting a war now, Jake, not keeping a single town safe. When it comes to the bigger conflict, you and this town will follow my orders. Do _you_ understand _me_?"

Jake glared at him, the anger burning in his eyes. "The _second_ we don't need you anymore, Beck, you'll get the hell of out Jericho and never come back. Or I'll take you out of Jericho and make _sure_ you never come back."

Jake turned his back and stormed off. Beck watched impassively as Jake walked past Heather, patting her shoulder before going into Emily's arms. Heather's sad eyes met Beck's and then she turned and followed Jake and Emily into Bailey's.

The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Beck standing alone in the street. He took a deep breath, snatched his cap from the ground and continued to the sheriff's office.

And now, three months later - Beck took another sip of his scotch and contemplated his options. The pariah of Jericho, he thought with bitter humor. He hadn't spoken to Heather alone in all that time - hell, he hadn't had a real conversation with anyone other than his commanders in the last three months.

He glanced up as Commander Clark entered his office.

"Major," Clark said, "you wanted to see me?"

Beck nodded. "Have a seat." Beck opened his desk drawer and pulled out another glass. "Drink?" Beck offered and poured a shot.

"Major?" Clark asked cautiously.

"Commander - " Beck hesitated, then handed the glass of scotch to Clark with the quirk of his lips that passed for a smile. "John," Beck said.

Clark stared at him and grabbed the proffered glass. "What's going on?" he asked.

"I received some intel today. From our source in J&R. There's been a report that my family was spotted in a remote area of New Mexico. Our source has kindly tried to do what they could to hide the information, but it's only a matter of time before somebody realizes that my family is alive. Or they were, six months ago."

"That's...great, Major!"

"At least there's hope," Beck conceded. He leaned forward. "I'll leave in two days. I'll travel under the radar - alone. No uniform. No ID. Nothing to tie me back to Jericho."

"You're not supposed to leave Kansas," Clark protested.

"Officially, I won't be leaving Kansas. Which means very few people can know. Only those of the men who need to know, and definitely nobody in Jericho. At least, not unless it's necessary. If Cheyenne discovers it, and threatens to attack, for example. Then tell them I'm gone but don't tell them where."

"You'll be gone for weeks - possibly months. We can't keep your absence secret for that long."

"Keep the information away from Cheyenne and Texas and Constantino for as long as possible. As for the residents of Jericho, you have to keep it secret long enough for me to get well on my way. I don't need Jake Green trying to kill me the second I leave the town limits." He gave the quirk of his lips again. "Tell everybody I'm sick with food poisoning. Tell them I may not make it, and our medic is looking after me. That'll buy a few days, possibly a few weeks if you play it right, and should make most people extremely happy. Ultimately, the people of Jericho won't care if I'm gone. They'll only be concerned that I'll come back."

"Sir," Clark hesitated.

"Yes?" Beck asked, when Clark didn't continue.

"Are you - you are coming back, aren't you, Major?"

Beck stared at him. Expressionless. Stoic. Opaque. "If I can," he replied calmly, and Clark felt a shiver go down his spine.

"We need you, sir," Clark said. "We have a truce, but it's because of you that Jericho is kept safe."

"Cheyenne agreed to make Jericho a safe zone - and Texas agreed to defend her - regardless of my presence. If I were to die here, the truce would hold. If I die in New Mexico, or anyplace other than a small radius around Jericho - _that's_ the danger. I will do my best to get there - and back - as quickly as possible. I have a last known location. I plan to be back in a matter of weeks, not months."

"Major - "

"You'll have command. I'll take a civilian vehicle - I want you to work with Heather to requisition one. But don't let her know why. _No one_ must know, at least not until I'm away."

"Why the secrecy, sir? Even from the men?" Clark asked.

"I'm not well-loved in town, Commander. Between the Rangers, the ASA, Constantino, the residents of New Bern and hell, probably your Aunt Fannie, my chances of getting out of Jericho alone and in one piece is almost non-existent. Making it back is another problem altogether."

Clark nodded solemnly. He couldn't argue with that assessment.

"What's the plan?" Clark asked.

"Civilian clothing. Civilian transportation. Civilian weapons and ammo, if possible, but that at least I can explain, if questioned." He met Clark's eyes for a moment. Both men knew that if someone was close enough to notice the make of his gun or his ammo, Beck likely wouldn't be alive to question.

"I'll try to contact you whenever I can. But it's unlikely. If anybody else already has this intel, I don't want them knowing I'm on my way. Simone and Maggie will be in enough danger as it is. I'll make my way back through Texas. Get word to you from there, if possible. If they're alive, and it's not safe for us - me - to return to Jericho, I can at least find them asylum and protection in Texas. For awhile."

"But you want to bring them here?"

"Yes. Jericho isn't safe, either, but at least I would know where they were. And we could protect them so they couldn't be used against me. Of course, if I'm going to be shot on sight, it may be better to stay in Texas. Possibly head to Mexico. Retire by the sea, perhaps."

"You can't be serious, sir," Clark protested. "We need you here."

Beck quirked his lips. "You'll be a good commanding officer for these men, John. You'll be good at protecting this town. I once told Jake that sometimes, to stabilize an area, you have to remove elements from the equation. Maybe I'm an element that must be removed to keep everything balanced, to keep everyone safe."

Clark shook his head, "That's not true," he said and then raised his glass. "Good luck to you, sir,"

Beck raised his glass in return and nodded at him. "And to you. I'm not sure which one of us will need it more." They each took a sip of their drinks.

"For the record, sir," Clark said slowly, "my Aunt Fannie was always rather taken with you."

*/*/*/*/*


	2. Chapter 2

*/*/*/*/*

Heather managed to find a vehicle for Clark, although she insisted on doing a complete tune-up before handing it over to him. Clark told her that it had to be ready in two days - and that raised questions in her mind. Why would Beck's men need a civilian vehicle so desperately? But she worked hard, and Clark picked up the car early on the second day. She frowned as she watched him drive away, and then shook her head and went back to work.

Her curiousity was piqued again when she overheard Dale and Skylar that afternoon. They were discussing Clark's request for camping gear and how they'd had to call in favours to find some within the deadline he had given them.

But it was the conversation between Clark and Hawkins that really got her thinking.

"He was looking for non-military issue guns and ammo?" Heather repeated, frowning at Darcy.

Darcy nodded, her eyes intent as she leaned over the table in the small kitchen in Heather's garage. "Have you heard of anything happening? Robert isn't talking, of course, but I want to know if there's a mission that will take Robert out of town. It's only been three months since he was shot, and he's still not 100 percent. The post-op infection took a lot out of him. Could you talk to Beck? If there's any way for them to complete this mission without Robert - just this once..." Darcy trailed off.

Heather sighed. "I'll see what I can do," she assured Darcy, "but I can't guarantee anything."

"He listens to you," Darcy replied with a grateful smile. "I know it may not be possible, but if Robert could have at least another month to recuperate, it would make all the difference."

Heather nodded. After Darcy left, Heather was skeptical about what she could possibly do. She hadn't spoken with Beck alone in three months, not after she had quit her job as liaison and told him that she couldn't work for him, or defend him anymore. She wasn't sure which had been worse - the decision she had made, the look in his eyes when she broke the news, or the fact that he had only nodded and let her go without a word.

She had been angry about what he had done to Jake. About what he had done to Jericho. Furious, actually. She had wanted him to defend himself, to argue with her, to try to make her understand. She wanted an excuse to scream at him, to batter against that damned controlled reserve until it broke, and then she could vent her own rage, batter him until _he_ broke. Instead, he only looked at her with those eyes, those eyes which for one moment were surprised and yet not surprised, vulnerable, hurt and ultimately, lonely. Then he lowered his gaze, and when he looked at her again, his eyes showed nothing, and had shown nothing to her since.

They dealt politely with each other, but never alone. If she sometimes missed him; missed their old relationship; missed seeing warmth or amusement in his dark eyes when he looked at her, she seldom admitted it.

But now she had to go to him and ask him for a favour. She didn't even know if he would see her alone, or speak to her about anything other than the bare necessities. She began to think of alternatives to having to go and face Beck in his office.

There was obviously a mission of some kind underway, and if there was a mission, then Jake would be right in the middle of it. Perhaps she wouldn't have to speak to Beck about it at all, she mused. She could ask Jake to keep Hawkins out of the mix. At least this once.

Heather walked over to the Green house. Emily greeted her with a less than sincere smile, and the smile dropped away entirely when Heather asked to speak with Jake.

"He should be back any minute," Emily replied. "Come on in," she reluctantly invited, "and have a beer while you wait."

Heather smiled. "Thanks." She ignored Emily's reluctance. She had tried to talk to Emily about Jake before, and never made any headway. Heather had finally given up, and only hoped that as time passed, the relationship with Emily would ease.

As they waited, Heather made conversation. They discussed what was new in Emily's world; how Gale was doing out on the ranch; what Emily was planning on doing with the house in the Pines, which had been vacant now for months; how Stanley and Mimi were doing without Bonnie. They were starting to discuss Dale and Skylar when Jake and Eric came home.

Heather rubbed her hands nervously on her thighs when Jake walked in and she bounced to her feet. "Could we talk?" she asked Jake without any preamble, ignoring Emily's glare and startling Jake and Eric.

"Sure," he said, his eyes concerned.

She quickly summarized Clark's activities, and Darcy's request. Jake, Eric and Emily exchanged glances as they shook their heads. "No mission that I know of," Eric said thoughtfully.

"So what do you think it's all about?" Heather asked, frowning in thought.

"Well, if Beck or Clark is part of it, it's going to be delayed for awhile, whatever it is," Jake soothed.

Heather frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

"I just met up with Clark. Beck's come down with food poisoning, they think. He's being treated by their medic right now."

"Food poisoning?" Heather echoed blankly, her breath catching in her throat.

"Or maybe just poisoning - Clark wasn't too forthcoming. Anyway, according to Clark, Beck will be down for the count for awhile. And while Beck is down, Clark is in command. How long exactly Beck is off-duty will depend on how severe Beck's illness really is. Clark didn't seem too worried, though, so it can't be all that bad."

Heather blinked, appalled. "Food poisoning?" she repeated. "Are the rest of the men all right?"

Jake nodded. "Clark said they're fine. They've isolated what Beck ate, and they're checking their stores right now."

Heather's mind raced. Now that the first spurt of fear had subsided - and she refused to think about that too deeply - there were things in the story that didn't make sense.

Jake grasped her shoulders, gave her a small shake to get her to focus on him, and looked her straight in the eye. "Go tell Darcy that everything's okay. Whatever Beck - or Clark - was planning is on hold until Beck's better. Hell, maybe Clark is just trying to get out of uniform for a change and go camping!" Jake grinned his crooked grin, and Heather reluctantly smiled back. "Anyway, Clark didn't mention any official missions requiring civilian camouflage to me."

Heather hesitantly nodded. She didn't believe a word of it. Beck ate what his men ate. If he was sick but the men were healthy, then either somebody was trying to kill him, or somebody was lying.

"Okay?" Jake prompted when she remained silent.

She nodded. "Okay," she agreed.

They started talking about other things after that, and she chatted easily as she finished her beer. Behind her calm face, though, her mind was racing. She refused to stay for supper, noting the strained look in Emily's eyes even as she issued the invitation.

Heather sighed as she walked away from the Green house, heading towards Beck's small house near the sheriff's office. As she walked towards the shortcut through the back alley behind the sheriff's office, Heather pondered the tension with Emily. Heather didn't know what she could do to convince Emily - heck, the whole town - that she wasn't sitting on the sidelines, pining for Jake. It surprised her that in times like these, people's love lives were still subjects of such intense speculation. She thought, though, that the small-town gossip gave an illusion of normalcy in a world gone mad.

She supposed she could ease the relationship with Emily easily enough if Heather just told her the whole truth. But she didn't want to tell Emily that it wasn't Jake's brown eyes that haunted her, but a different pair of dark eyes. She didn't even want to admit it to herself, except in the safety of her dreams and the dark of night.

Her feelings for Beck were confused and intense. She hated him. He had tortured Jake. Terrorized the town. Followed a corrupt government without question. She respected him. He had risked his command to save a town in trouble. Gave her the benefit of the doubt when she lied to his face. Admitted his mistake, and waited for his fate like a man. Let Jake take his swings without complaint.

She glanced up as she entered the back alley, just in time to see Clark come out the back door of the sheriff's office with camping gear on his back. She quickly hid behind a fence as she watched Clark walk away from her. He hadn't seemed to notice her, but she waited until he was at least half a block away before she stood and cautiously followed him.

She hesitated when Clark got close to the outskirts of town. She hoped he wasn't leaving the town limits, since she didn't have a ready excuse to follow him. She watched from behind a tall fence as he changed direction and purposely strode towards the garage of one of the abandoned houses. He obviously wasn't expecting to be observed, or if he was, he wasn't expecting it to raise questions. Heather frowned as he disappeared into the garage. She made herself comfortable behind a fence, and waited until she saw him leave the garage - without the camping gear.

Once she was certain Clark was out of sight and earshot, she went to the garage and tried the doors, only to find them locked. She looked through the windows, frowned and ran back to the Green house.

*/*/*/*/*


	3. Chapter 3

*/*/*/*/*

Beck opened the garage door, and stopped short when three flashlights were turned on and aimed directly in his eyes.

"Going somewhere?" Jake asked.

Beck shielded his eyes, blinded, and tried to make out the shadowy trio confronting him. He blinked as the lights were turned on in the garage, and he recognized Heather, Jake and Hawkins through his watering eyes. As he waited for his vision to clear, Beck cursed to himself as he realized he hadn't taken Heather's curiousity or her intelligence into account, or considered the way news travelled in a small town. If he had considered those things, he thought with disgust, he would have handled it differently. Stolen the damn car. Maybe given Clark pointers on how to be discreet.

Even as he thought the last, he knew he was being unfair. Beck had simply misjudged how much the town observed his men - how much they observed him. Just because he was the town pariah didn't mean people weren't interested in his movements. They were probably more interested _because_ he was the town pariah...he gave a mental shrug. It didn't matter now.

"I should have known," he groaned as his vision cleared. "Nothing happens in this town that you three don't know about."

"Where are you going, Beck?" Jake demanded. "And why the secrecy? Are you leaving Jericho and your men to fend for themselves?"

Beck sighed, opened the car door and flung his gear into the back seat.

"I have no choice," he grimly said, turning back to the trio. "I finally have a lead on my family's whereabouts - but it's six months old, and it came through Jennings and Rall. That means I need to keep it secret from the ASA, Constantino and Texas. And from you, Jake," Beck conceded.

Jake glared at him challengingly.

"I didn't want to have to kill you on my way out of town." Beck said drily. "Bad omen."

In spite of himself. Jake gave a reluctant half-smile.

"I plan on coming back and bringing my family with me, if I can find them. I will be as fast as I can. My intel is old - it may be a dead end almost immediately. But I need to try."

Jake stared at him for long moments. "I understand," he reluctantly said.

"You need a partner," Hawkins briskly said. "Somebody to ride shotgun. We're pretty stable around here, thanks to you and your men, as well as the Rangers, but the farther out you get, the more you need somebody watching your back."

"You can't go, Hawkins," Beck replied immediately. "You're still recovering. And - " Beck held up a hand as Hawkins opened his mouth to protest, "Jericho needs you more than I do. Same for you, Jake. Besides the fact that you want to kill me yourself, you're Jericho's sheriff, and leader of the Rangers. If anything happens while I'm gone, Jericho will need you - and Hawkins. And my men need plausible deniability, so I won't allow any of them to come with me."

"Plausible deniabilty?" Heather questioned, frowning.

Beck glanced at her and then quickly looked away. "I need you two to ensure my men are protected that way."

Hawkins and Jake glanced at each other and nodded.

"So, alone it is," Beck said with satisfaction, slapping his palm on the roof of the car.

"What about me?" Heather demanded.

Three pairs of brown eyes turned to her.

"You?" Jake replied. "No! The last time you left Jericho, I was told you died. No. It's not safe."

Heather rolled her eyes. "That's no reason," she snapped. "It's not safe here, either."

"You can't shoot!" Jake insisted.

"No, but I can drive. And I can outdrive anybody we meet."

Skeptical silence met this claim. Heather sighed.

"I souped up cars in high school - what do you think I did with them? I raced 'em. It's how I made my spending money. And gave Constantino a few headaches as well," she added with satisfaction.

Beck cocked his head and looked at her. "No," he said flatly.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"Because Jake is right. It's too dangerous for you."

"You need a partner. I'm the only one who can go with you. Therefore, I'm your partner."

Beck shook his head. "No," he said again, his voice even flatter.

"Look," Heather argued, "I'm the best choice to go. I can drive like a speed demon. I can fix the car if it breaks down. I can watch your back. And _I_ have the only set of keys."

His expression hardened as he looked at the keys dangling from her fingers.

"Are you blackmailing me?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

"I prefer the term... _persuading_ ," Heather replied demurely. "Blackmail is so...harsh."

"Heather," Jake protested, "this isn't some summer road trip with the girls! It's dangerous out there!"

"Give me some credit, Jake," she snapped. "This isn't a chance for me to see the world and have some fun." She pointed a finger at Beck as she glared at Jake. "We need him! We need to make sure he makes it back to Jericho, and the best way to do that is to send somebody with him. I seem to be the best choice to go."

"She's right," Hawkins said as both Beck and Jake made a move to protest. "You need a second person - you can cover more ground more quickly that way. If she's as good a driver as she claims," Hawkins added, nodding at her, "then that may be what you need to save your lives."

"You can't outdrive a helicopter," Beck said grimly, and reached to grab the keys dangling from Heather's finger. She shied back and promptly tucked the keys into her bra.

For the first time since she met him, Beck's jaw literally dropped. He stared at where she had placed the keys for a long moment while Jake glared and Hawkins tried to hide a grin and a laugh.

"I think she's got you, Major," Hawkins finally managed.

Beck slowly raised his gaze to meet hers and Heather's world narrowed until there was nothing and nobody else but the man in front of her, and his eyes, which showed dark anger and...heated desire? It was the first sign of the man behind the controlled facade she had seen in three months. And then he blinked and time returned.

"You have no gear," Beck grated out, abruptly turning his back to her.

"In the trunk," Heather replied more serenely than she felt, her breathing rapid.

Jake stared at her. "What? When?" he sputtered.

"While you were getting Hawkins, I packed up and headed here. Got the keys and loaded my stuff into the trunk."

"You knew you were going with me?" Beck demanded, turning back to her.

Heather sighed and looked at him pityingly. "If you were going, I was going," she said simply, to Beck's obvious shock.

"Okay," Hawkins said, "that's settled. Where are you headed? And what route are you taking?"

Beck sighed. He knew he'd lost this battle - had lost it before he even knew there was going to be a battle. He may as well tell them everything, he thought with disgust, if only to make sure Heather could be rescued if something happened to him. He opened the car door, reached into his pack and pulled out a map. The four of them leaned over it as Beck spread it over the hood of the car and placed his finger on it. "A place called Antelope Wells, in New Mexico."

Hawkins stared at him, frowning. "That's just a border crossing. Population, two."

"Apparently not anymore. According to J&R, there were ten thousand people there six months ago. My...family among them. God knows how - or if - they've survived. Based on my intel, which has been somewhat limited the last three months, this," he traced a line with his finger, "is the route I've planned. Most of the smaller towns were evacuated - or abandoned. There's little road gang activity reported. There are a couple of larger towns that are supplied by the ASA, so we should be able to refuel as we go."

"How will you pay for gas?" Jake challenged.

"Salt," Heather replied. "I saw the sacks in the trunk," she shrugged at Jake's surprised look.

"Unmarked bags, I hope," Beck stated drily. She nodded. "Nothing can lead anybody back to Jericho," Beck explained in response to her puzzled frown. He glanced at Hawkins and Jake. "You know the ASA can't find out I'm gone."

Hawkins nodded sharply. "We'll work things from our end. You take care of yours."

Hawkins studied the map. "Our intel isn't much better then yours," he said thoughtfully, "but you'll want to go like hell through here," he pointed to a stretch of road about three hundred miles from Jericho. "Dale told us this evening that his men ran into some trouble with a road gang through there. Nothing too serious, but it needed to be noted."

Beck nodded. "Clark mentioned it. The roads were clear?"

Hawkins nodded. "As far as Dale's men went. You'll find out more about Antelope Wells the farther you go, especially if it has grown as large as your intel says."

Beck shook his head, sighing. "Ten thousand people couldn't last long without some kind of infrastructure."

Hawkins acknowledged the point, and then continued. "Take this," he held a cell phone out to Heather. "It's a secure phone - at least for now. Heather should be the only one to speak on it; her voice is less likely to be recognized. Use the code name Bo when you call. If necessary, call Chavez in Texas - have him relay messages. New Mexico is ASA territory. J&R has obviously not established themselves in Antelope Wells, otherwise your intel wouldn be more current - but they're around. So be careful."

Hawkins glanced at Heather. "You're new to this," he nodded at her. "New Bern and Cheyenne were nothing compared to what you'll be facing on this trip. Have you ever fired a gun before?"

She hesitated and then shook her head.

"Well - here," Hawkins handed Beck a small gun and some ammo. "Beck can show you how to use it later. No need to aim - just point and shoot in order to provide cover for Beck if necessary. But your main role will be to drive as well as you say you can." Hawkins gave her a long, cool stare. "And for both your sakes, you better be as good as you claim."

Heather stared wide-eyed at Hawkins and Beck thought she looked incredibly young and frightened.

"Okay," Beck briskly said, taking pity on her, "anything else?"

"That's it for now," Hawkins replied. "It shouldn't take long to get where you're going."

"If all goes well," Beck replied drily. "If we don't run into road gangs and if we can find gas." He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. "We may have to walk there and back." He glanced at Heather. "Are you prepared for that?" he demanded.

Heather raised her chin and glared back at him, her face stubborn. "You'd be surprised what I'm prepared for," she snapped.

For the second time that night, Heather felt pinned by his eyes as his mask dropped to show the man within. Even as the world narrowed to just the two of them, she felt a frisson of... _something_ go down her back. For the first time she wondered if this decision to go with him was such a good idea after all.

"Keep us posted as much as you can," Hawkins said, breaking the moment. "If you run into major trouble, I'll see what I can do to get you rescued." Hawkins gave Beck a level stare. "For many reasons," he added quietly, and held out his hand to Beck. "Good luck."

Beck slowly reached out and shook Hawkins' hand.

Jake gave Beck a solemn stare. "Keep her safe," he said grimly, tilting his head towards Heather.

Beck glanced between the two of them. "I will," he promised.

Heather rolled her eyes. Jake turned to her. "This time, I'm not expecting a couple days," he said with a slight smile.

"No," she agreed, shaking her head. "More like a couple weeks."

He pulled her into what Heather privately called a Jake-Green-patented-bear-hug.

"Come back in one piece," he whispered and dropped a kiss on her ear.

She swallowed hard and nodded, hugging him back as hard as she could.

Beck watched dispassionately as they said their good-byes. When Jake let Heather go, Beck held out his hand to her. "The keys," he said.

Heather gave him a pitying look and got in the passenger seat before leaning over and putting the keys into the ignition.

Beck raised his eyes to the roof and prayed for patience before getting into the car and driving out of town.

Hawkins and Jake stood and watched the headlights disappear into the distance.

"This is such a bad idea," Jake sighed.

Hawkins gave a half-smile and kept his thoughts to himself.

*/*/*/*/*


	4. Chapter 4

 */*/*/*/*

They drove in almost complete silence. Heather could feel the anger radiating off him like heat. Heather sat beside him, her own anger at an all time high, mixed with trepidation. What had she been thinking when she packed up her gear and invited herself along on this trip, she wondered to herself. They might be gone for weeks and they hadn't been alone together in three months. She really couldn't predict what would happen during this enforced time together. But that was secondary, she reminded herself stoutly. The important thing was to ignore their issues long enough to find his wife and child and get back to Jericho. She ignored the skittering in her stomach at the thought of finding his wife.

After three hours, Beck pulled the car into a copse of trees. Hidden in the trees was a small house.

"Where - ?" Heather asked.

"It's a safe house that we use. It's just within the area we control. We'll camp here for the rest of the night, and leave at first light."

Heather nodded. Beck parked the car, and they took their gear into the house, which was tiny and unfurnished. Beck turned on the camping lantern he had brought in, and they set up camp in the livingroom.

Beck unrolled his sleeping bag, and then watched her unrolling her bag. "Okay," he sighed, "I know why I'm pissed off, but what's _your_ excuse?"

Heather glanced at him. "I'm not pissed off," she protested, and flushed at the skeptical look on his face.

"Fine," she burst out. "Why didn't you tell me what this was about? I would have found you a better car! I would have helped you get your supplies!"

"Would you have let me go alone?" he asked drily.  The scorn in her eyes burned him, even across the room.  "Didn't think so."

"Why alone?" she demanded. "Why wouldn't you let any of us help you?"

Now it was Beck's turn to look at her with scorn. "And who would I ask?" he demanded. "You? You made your opinion of me crystal clear over the last three months. Jake? Please. Hawkins? Okay, Hawkins would have helped, but he's still weak from his wound and post-op infection, and I didn't need Darcy riding my ass, too. I wouldn't put my men at risk by asking them to leave Jericho with me. So, tell me, Heather – _wh_ o, exactly, should I have asked?"

Heather stared at him. "You sound bitter," she stated, her voice carefully neutral.

Beck cocked his head as he considered her comment. "Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I think I _am_ bitter."

"Do you blame us?" Heather exploded, throwing her hands in the air and pacing furiously. "You imprisoned Jake – and Russell – and _tortured_ them! You terrorized Jericho! And for _what_? To avenge _Goetz_! What about Bonnie, huh? Or what about what happened to New Bern and Rogue River? What about _them_?"

"It wasn't _about_ Goetz," Beck shouted, making her jump, and now it was his turn to pace angrily around the room. "It was about _justice_! It was about law and order. It was about exerting authority, and being _seen_ to exert authority! Did you think the ASA, or Jennings and Rall would ignore what happened? Did you think _Ravenwood_ would ignore it?"

"J and R fired him," Heather snapped, "and left him to the Rangers."

"And if he had just died in the gun battle to capture him, everyone would have been okay with that. But he was strung up in a _tree_ , Heather – and that wasn't done for _Bonnie_. That was done as a threat – to me, to my men, to Jennings and Rall, and to the ASA."

"That wasn't Jake!"

Beck gritted his teeth as he spun to glare at her. Her blind loyalty to Jake made him want to shake her some days. "It was done with his consent! I don't care who actually _put_ Goetz in that tree, or who only allowed it. It was a message. And I responded! More importantly, I had to be _seen_ to be responding!"

"You _tortured_ him, Beck!" Heather cried. "He was in your custody, and you _tortured_ him!"

"I deprived him of food, water and sleep!" Beck yelled, suddenly looming over her. "I didn't rip his fingernails out, or beat him. And don't you think I _knew_ that Gale would figure out where we were holding him? A hog farm isn't exactly subtle! Didn't you wonder why nobody followed you? If anybody was going to know where the Rangers were hiding, it was you. And didn't you ever wonder why nobody was watching Mimi? Or why people were allowed to riot in the streets and I didn't have them shot? Or why I didn't shoot you immediately?"

Heather stared at him, shaking.

"Did you really think I was that stupid?" he demanded. "Or that incompetent?"

Heather stared at him and tried to think of something to say. The thought that he had deliberately allowed them to find and rescue Jake – that he might have actually been on their side during those dark days - knocked her into a tailspin.

Beck leaned closer, his eyes blazing. Heather couldn't help the shiver as his breath tickled across her ear. "Not one of you asked what I had done when I was in Iraq," he hissed, his voice harsh. "And no one asked about the other towns in the country. Why should you think it would be different for you? Why would you think you're special? You can't turn a blind eye to what happened to others and then scream injustice when it happens to you."

"What did you do?" Heather whispered, her mouth dry.

"I removed elements from the equation by whatever means necessary. Disbanded those towns that wouldn't cooperate."

"So, why didn't you do the same to Jericho?" Heather challenged.

Heather caught her breath at the cold look in his eyes. "Because I had things to find. If my mission had been only to subdue the town, there wouldn't be a Jericho anymore. There wouldn't be a Jake Green, or a Robert Hawkins. _Or_ a Heather Lisinski."

Heather stared at him, appalled. "That's... _cold_ ," she whispered.

"I have a cold job," Beck replied. "There's no room for warmth or softness in what I do. And when I'm protecting you, that's exactly what you want."

He turned away abruptly and Heather watched as he rolled himself into his sleeping bag, his back towards her. She followed suit more slowly, his words ringing in her ears.

\----------------------------

A/N 1:  I realize this is probably a little off-canon when it comes to how Beck responded to the citizens of Jericho rioting in the streets.  I don't remember him having people shot, but maybe he did.  :)

A/N 2:  This is my little rant at how they portrayed Beck in this episode.  For a guy who's "good at what he does", he was pretty damn stupid.  He kept Jake on a hog farm, and then let Gale go after she saw him??  And didn't follow her???  And he didn't have anybody watching Mimi or Heather????  Lord love a ducky - anyway, this is just my alternative interpretation of his actions.  :)


	5. Chapter 5

*/*/*/*/*

The next day passed mostly in silence; Beck because he was still angry that Heather had tagged along with him, and Heather because she was still trying to decide if she believed what he had told her the night before.

If he was honest, Beck also felt a little guilty that he had been so harsh with Heather the night before. As much as her blind loyalty to Jake and Jericho might drive him crazy, he didn’t want to do anything to deliberately destroy that core of sweet naivete that was so disarming, not to mention charming. That sweetness was something precious in a brutal world, and he should be protecting it, not bruising it.

Not that that stopped him from arguing with her, he acknowledged ruefully, although they had been almost painfully polite to each other for the last little while. He was almost glad they had had the confrontation the previous night; it was the most emotion she’d shown him in three months.

They had left the safehouse early in the morning after filling the car's gas tank from the stockpile that was kept at the safe house and putting as many extra cans of gasoline as they could find and safely hold into the car. Beck wanted to get to Antelope Wells as quickly as possible; whether they would be able to find gas to get back to Jericho was anybody’s guess.

They left Kansas and made it through Oklahoma and into New Mexico without incident. They were avoiding the main roads and the major cities, and so were taking a less direct route to Antelope Wells. They found that the roads were clear, with no traffic, and the few towns they passed were deserted. Now, after about eight hours of travel, they came to Lovington, and Heather and Beck saw a road block on the outskirts of town. It was the first sign of life they had seen in the New Mexico countryside.

They approached the roadblock cautiously, acutely aware that not only did they have extra gasoline in the car, but also salt. They would be a tempting target if the men behind the roadblock decided to open the trunk or examine the contents of the back seat.

Beck slanted a glance at Heather, then turned his attention back to the upcoming roadblock. He had been riding shotgun all day after Heather had admitted that morning – reluctantly – that she didn’t know how to shoot a gun, and Beck admitted he didn’t have time to teach her. He sincerely hoped she was as good a driver as she claimed, because if this group was hostile, it may be the only thing that could save them.

Heather and Beck were careful to keep their hands in plain sight as two men approached the car.

"Where you headed?" asked the man beside Heather's window.

"South," Beck replied politely.

The man chuckled. "Any place in particular? Or do you have somebody after you?"

Beck gave the quirk of his lips that passed for a smile. "Sorry," he said. "Too used to being cautious. No, no place in particular. We want to escape the winter before it gets here. Hoping to find a place that will take us in."

"Good luck," the man replied. "Maybe it'll be easier farther south, but there's no place around here. We're barely making it as it is."

Beck nodded. "We're just passing through. Do you have any gas to spare?"

"Latest shipment from the ASA just came through, but we barely have enough for ourselves. Sorry."

"Okay. Would there be a place to stay? We have some supplies, so we wouldn't need food. And we have some salt to trade, for a bed and any supplies we can get."

Heather glanced over at Beck, but his expression gave nothing away.

"There's a hotel in town - you can try there. We're pretty stable here, and we intend to keep it that way." There was a warning tone in his voice.

Beck nodded again. "We'll be on our way in the morning."

The man nodded and stepped away from the car. "Ask for Mona. Tell her Harry said you were okay."

Beck and Heather nodded, and were silent as they moved past the roadblock and towards the town, which was much smaller than Jericho. They found the hotel without incident, and Mona only nodded disinterestedly when they introduced themselves as Sam and Heather, and gave her Harry's message. She was wary but not unfriendly and asked for any news about the rest of the country.

"Oh, we have TV," she said, "but sometimes I want to know what else is happening. We never really hear anything about what's happening in the east." She paused, and glanced away. "I have family in Florida. It would be...good...to know."

Beck and Heather couldn't give her much, and they turned in early. They shared a bedroom but Beck insisted that Heather sleep while he stood watch over the car and her.

"I can sleep while you drive tomorrow," he said simply, "and you can wake me if you see anything suspicious."

Heather was uncomfortable with sleeping while he was awake, but she couldn't disagree with his argument. She was surprised at how easily she fell asleep with him sitting vigil at the window.

They left early in the morning, with the goal of reaching Antelope Wells that evening. Beck slept peacefully in the passenger seat for the first three hours, and then woke when Heather slowed the car and pulled over to add gas. They worked in silence and were soon on their way again.

After another hour of silence, with Beck watching their surroundings and trying not to brood, he finally said, his voice carefully neutral, "We should make contact with Jericho before we get to Antelope Wells."

Heather nodded. "I'll try phoning in a couple of hours. Have you thought about how we're going to get home?"

Home. Beck gritted his teeth at the word. Jericho wasn't _his_ home. But it _was_ his sanctuary - and his best hope for safety for his family. He winced slightly at that word as well...and finally reminded himself that Simone was his _ex_ -wife. He wondered if William had also survived those first days after the Attacks, and if he was with Simone and Maggie, protecting and caring for them the way Beck should have been.

Even though they had been separated for almost a year, Beck had only agreed to the divorce before his last deployment six months before the Attacks. He had agreed to it for Maggie's sake. Ten-year-old Maggie, far too mature for her age. Too aware of the problems in her parents' lives.

Simone had cried so hard when she told him about William, Beck remembered. Looking back, he wasn't sure what had surprised him more - the actual ending of their marriage, or the fact that Simone - sweet, fragile Simone; shy, inhibited Simone - had left him for another man. With whom, presumably, she had sex.

Beck had to admit that William was more Simone's style. He was friendly and gentle, handsome in a boy-next-door kind of way, his blue eyes kind, even if afraid whenever they met. And William treated Maggie well, from what Maggie told Beck.

Maybe he still had some kindness left, Beck thought ruefully. He sincerely hoped William was still alive. Too much death, too much loss and for his ex-wife's and daughter's sakes, hell, for _William's_ sake, he wanted to find them all alive and well, and get them to Jericho.

Jericho was not his home, and Jake might hate his guts, but he would protect the innocent. Even if they _were_ connected to Beck.

"Beck?"

"Hmmm?"

"Have you thought about how we're going to get home?" she repeated, wondering what was going through Beck's head to cause that thunderous look on his face.

"If we find them in Antelope Wells, then we'll head to Texas - we may have to walk, but that would get us into allied territory in the shortest amount of time. I have some contacts, and we should be able to find and tag along with some black market trucks once we're there."

"Why can't we just ask one of your contacts to come get us?"

"Texas can't be seen to be helping us," Beck replied absently, his mind still occupied by thoughts of what he might find at journey's end.

"What do you mean?" Heather asked.

Beck blinked at her. "Sorry?" he asked.

"That Texas can't be seen to be helping us? What - "

"It's part of the truce. The ASA will leave Jericho and New Bern as a neutral zone, but we're on our own. Officially, Texas can't help us. Unofficially - well, the black market operates everywhere."

"So, if Texas can't help us, why doesn't the ASA simply attack us?"

"If the ASA attacks, Texas attacks. And the war is on."

Heather frowned. "So, they will retaliate if we're attacked, but they can't help us survive?" Beck nodded. "I suppose Texas agreed to that because of Jake and Hawkins. Because of what they did?"

It was the slight hesitation that gave Beck away. His "yes" was just a split second off.

Heather stared hard at his profile as he stared out the windshield. He glanced over at her when the silence continued too long.

He frowned at her expression. "What?" he asked. "And keep your eyes on the road."

Heather obediently turned her attention back to the road even as she said, "Texas didn't make that deal for Jake and Hawkins, did they?"

"Sure they did," Beck shrugged.

"Okay, let me rephrase. Texas didn't agree _only_ because of Jake and Hawkins."

Beck was silent.

"Beck? Silence is still an answer."

Beck quirked his lips and gave her a sidelong glance. He sighed. "No. It wasn't just because of Jake and Hawkins."

"It wasn't for them at all, was it?"

"I'm sure they were a factor."

"So - why would Texas make that kind of deal?"

Beck hesitated, then sighed again. "Sam Travis - Ambassador Sam Travis - and I are old friends. I asked him for a favor. They were negotiating with the ASA anyway."

"And you asked him to make the safety of Jericho a condition of the truce."

"Yes."

" _Why_?"

"Because I refused to leave Jericho defenseless and at the mercy of the ASA when Travis asked me to deploy my men to Texas. I argued that the toehold we had in Kansas was too valuable to abandon. That the Rangers and the others would be valuable allies in the war to come - but only if they were protected now. I told him that if Texas refused to protect Jericho as part of the truce, then we would fight them as well. Not much of a threat, I know - but it worked. As conditions of the truce, though, I don't leave the area surrounding Jericho and New Bern. We don't attack the ASA troops. And Texas doesn't help us."

Heather sat back, stunned. "Why didn't you tell us?" she whispered.

Beck stared at her. "Tell you _what_ , exactly? Besides, Jake and Hawkins know now, of course, as does Gray. They needed to understand why Texan support could only come through unofficial channels."

"You didn't have to stay," Heather blurted. "You could have been in Texas. A...a colonel or something."

Beck ruefully shook his head. "I followed one government that is corrupt to its core. A lot of good men still follow it. Travis is a good man, but he's not the leader of Texas. I won't - again - make my men take orders from a commander-in-chief or a government I don't know or trust. Our support and loyalty will be earned this time. Jericho - well." He shrugged.

"What about Jericho?"

"Gray may have his faults, but at heart he's a decent guy. The same with the rest of you. In other words, I know the government of Jericho isn't corrupt. The people aren't corrupt. I will trust and support _this_ town and _this_ government."

Heather was silent. "Was that the only reason you stayed?" she finally asked.

Now it was Beck's turn to be silent until he quietly replied, "No. I stayed because I owed it to you." He glanced at her. "Jericho, I mean. I didn't want Jericho destroyed. The people displaced at best; at worst - " he sighed. "You didn't deserve that. I didn't know if I could protect you but I had to try."  
  
He turned and looked out the passenger window. This time, Heather let the silence continue, and Beck eventually drifted off to sleep once more.

*/*/*/*/*


	6. Chapter 6

 */*/*/*/*

Heather drove, letting Beck sleep in peace. Judging from his expression and his restlessness, though, his dreams were anything but sweet. She frowned, concerned, when he jerked awake, his eyes wide and staring. He looked around, blinking, then settled back with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"About an hour from Antelope Wells - if all goes well."

"Have you seen anybody at all?"

Heather shook her head. "Not a soul." She glanced at Beck. "What if there's nobody there?" she asked.

Beck shrugged. "Then we see what we can find, and head to Texas."

"What about Mexico?"

"If we have to, but I'm not sure what state Mexico is in, or whether they're sympathetic to refugees." He sighed. "It's hard to know what the truth is. I had intel through the ASA, but how much of it is real and how much is a lie - " he shook his head, then stiffened as he saw the truck come onto the highway behind them. Heather glanced into the rearview mirrror and sped up.

"Shit," Beck said, "they're speeding up, too."

Heather nodded, licking her lips and tightening her grip on the wheel. She glanced at him, wide-eyed, when he took out his gun. Then, with a visible effort, she relaxed and pressed the gas pedal to the floor. "If they've souped up that truck," she warned, "we won't be able to outrun them."

Beck nodded. "Keep us on the road, and I'll take care of the rest."

Heather took a deep breath and nodded. She pushed the car to its limits, but the truck closed in quickly. The first shot took out their back window and Heather and Beck ducked down, the car careening wildly across the road.

Beck returned fire as Heather jerked the car back under control, and proceeded to weave back and forth across the highway in the hopes of making a more difficult target. Unfortunately, those maneuvers caused Beck's shots to go wild as he was knocked off balance by a particularly sharp pull on the steering wheel that sent the car once again careening across the road, on the edge of losing control.

Heather steadied the car again, and Beck glared at her.

"I thought you said you could drive," he snarled, as he turned his attention back to shooting at the pursuing truck.

"I though _you_ said you could shoot," Heather snapped. She glanced in the rearview mirror. "Hold on - and hold onto that gun," she warned then slammed on the brakes, throwing Beck against the dashboard.

" _Jesus_!" he exclaimed as he watched the truck swerve around them, the driver desperately trying to keep control. Heather pushed the gas pedal down again, while Beck aimed out the passenger window and shot out the back tires. The driver completely lost control, hit the side of the road and Heather slammed the brakes as the truck flipped and rolled until it ended upside down, its wheels slowly turning in the air.

She put the car into park, and sat there, shaking, as she stared at the truck. She turned her stare to Beck, her eyes wide and terrified, his dark and cold.

"We can't just leave them," she begged through bloodless lips.

Beck glared at her, then shook his head as he checked his ammo. "I'm going to check," he said, his voice clipped and grim. "If they start shooting, get out of the line of fire. If I go down, you _run_ \- got that?"

Heather nodded jerkily, even as she knew she would never leave him behind. She watched as he warily approached the truck with his gun at the ready, crouching low. When the shots came, she couldn't help the small scream that escaped her even as she ducked. She saw Beck hit the ground, even as he was returning fire. She crouched onto the front seat, her hands covering her head as the gunfire continued, and then, as abruptly as it had started, it ended. The silence seemed more deafening - and frightening - than the gunshots.

Heather cautiously lifted her head and saw Beck on the ground.

Her heart stopped, even as she opened the door and rolled out, keeping low and keeping the car between her and the overturned truck. She to the front of the car and hesitated. When no one shot at her, she headed towards Beck in a half-crouch. She saw him stir as she came towards him and the relief made her light-headed. She also saw that the two men in the truck were obviously dead.

She fell to her knees beside him and was relieved to see his eyes flutter open. His face was covered in blood from a deep, long graze over his left eye which was bleeding profusely. His left arm had been grazed as well, but it didn't seem to be bleeding as much as the head wound.

"I told you to run," Beck growled, sitting up with a groan.

"I know," she replied, grabbing the gun out of his hand, and helping him to his feet.

"So why are you here?" he asked, even as he leaned on her, blinking the blood out of his eye, his uninjured arm around her shoulders.

"I needed the gun," she replied.

"Well, that's practical at least," Beck muttered and let her help him into the car.

"I'm nothing if not practical," Heather muttered, her voice unconsciously wistful. She rummaged in the back seat for the emergency kit Clark had included. She quickly cleaned his wounds and assessed the extent of his injuries.

"Just grazed," she said, her voice wobbling with relief.

"I could have told you that," Beck muttered, wincing as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Heather shut the door and went to the driver's side.

"I'm sure you could have," Heather shook her head. She knew his head must hurt like a bastard and he still had too much macho attitude for his own good. For the first time in months, she smiled a genuine smile as she started the car and pulled away from the truck.

She glanced over at him, sitting in with his eyes closed. Her knowledge was sketchy in the area of head injuries, but she thought it would be a good idea if he stayed awake until she could hopefully find help for him.

"Beck," she said sharply, "you can't fall asleep."

He rolled his head towards her and opened his eyes, slowly blinking at her. "That would probably be a bad idea," he agreed, his voice thick with pain.

"So...talk to me," she said.

"About what?" he asked.

"Tell me about before. Before the Attacks. Who were you? What did you do for fun?"

Beck closed his eyes, not sure how to answer. Not sure if he _could_ answer.

Heather glanced at him. "Okay," she said, taking pity on him, "I'll start. My grandmother and I used to watch old movies on Sunday afternoons. She'd pop popcorn - the old-fashioned way - on the stove. And we'd watch the classics. Cary Grant. Myrna Loy. Katharine Hepburn. Clark Gable. William Powell. She preferred the screwball comedies but we watched them all."

"What happened when you went to university?" he asked, wincing as he turned his head to look at her.

"She...uh...she died my first semester." Heather was silent for long moments. "It was...tough."

She fell silent, frowning against old memories and feelings, blinking the tears out of her eyes. This wasn't supposed to be about her, after all.

She cleared her throat, and glanced over at Beck. "Your turn," she said, keeping her voice light.

Beck paused for a moment, closing his eyes against the pain in his head.

"Beck!" Heather said sharply, and he opened his eyes, frowning.

"Uh...I...I - uh - I built a tree house for Maggie at every house we lived in."

"You're a carpenter?"

"Not really," Beck replied, his voice slow as he fought to stay awake when all he wanted to do was close his eyes to escape the pain in his head. "But you get better with practice. It was...our thing. Every new posting, we'd take the old tree house apart, and when we got to the new place, we'd use some of the old boards to help build the new one.

"It was her club house. Invitation only. Especially as she got older. She's very feminine - like her mother. When she was younger she'd invite me to tea parties, along with her favourite stuffed animals. She'd wear her prettiest dress and be the perfect hostess. Like her mother." He blinked sleepily. "When she got older, the tea parties changed to dinner parties - with real food. Usually peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. And milk."

Heather couldn't help but grin at the mental picture. "It sounds like a wonderful tradition," she said gently.

Beck nodded once, then winced as the pain rolled through his head.

"We'll find them, Beck," Heather said, her voice more confident than she felt.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes fluttering closed.

Heather sat up straighter behind the wheel at the sight of the road block she could see in the distance. Her stomach roiled, her emotions confused as the possibility of finding and meeting his family became suddenly very real - and immediate. She bit her lip and resolutely refused to think about why she felt so scared and nervous.

"Well," she said, glancing over at him, "we're here."

*/*/*/*/*


	7. Chapter 7

 */*/*/*/*

Beck opened his eyes and frowned at the ceiling above him. His head was throbbing, his arm was stinging and he tried to remember why. And where he was. And what had happened to his clothes.

He knew he wasn't in his officer's quarters. And he sure wasn't in the bedroom of the tiny house he used in Jericho.

Jericho.

Heather.

Beck sat up and winced as pain ballooned in his head. He glanced around and relaxed as he saw Heather sleeping rather awkwardly in a chair beside the narrow bed. He frowned as he looked at her. He remembered the road gang, the bullets grazing him, the rest of the drive to Antelope Wells, and he remembered her telling him they had arrived. He even remembered her introducing them as Sam and Heather, as they had done at Lovington, and beginning a frantic explanation of what had happened earlier. But from that moment on, it was all a blank.

He started and scrambled for where he normally kept his gun as the door silently opened and a tousled head peeked around it.

"Ah," the owner of the head whispered in a satisfied voice, "you're awake. And your Heather is finally asleep."

Beck frowned at the woman, feeling at a severe disadvantage. "Who - ?"

Heather jerked awake at his voice, sitting up and frantically looking around her.

"Sorry," the woman said, no longer whispering, "I didn't mean to wake you, Heather. I just wanted to check on you and the patient."

Heather blinked at her owlishly, and in spite of his puzzlement, Beck took a moment to appreciate how adorable she looked when she was sleepy and confused. And where the hell _that_ came from, he had no idea. That bullet must have hit him harder than he thought.

"Oh," Heather said as she became more fully awake. She looked from the woman to where Beck was sitting up in bed, bare-chested and the blankets pooled in his lap. His cheeks and chin were dark with stubble and the bullet graze was a livid mark along his left brow. He looked dangerous, Heather thought, dangerously sexy, and she blushed furiously.

If Beck's head hadn't hurt so much, he'd have almost laughed at Heather's wide-eyed embarrassment and her painful blush.

The woman had no such inhibition. She laughed heartily at Heather's expression, and then turned to Beck.

"Sorry, Sam," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you or wake Heather. I was on my way to the kitchen to start breakfast and figured I'd check on you two."

Heather avoided Beck's eyes, and hoped her blush would subside quickly. "Thanks," she said. "Sam, this is Frankie. Frankie - Sam."

Frankie gave him a lazy grin and held out her hand. She was a pleasant looking woman with short brown hair and frank green eyes. Not a beauty, Beck acknowledged, but she had... _presence_. Beck guessed that she was in her mid-thirties and while she smiled easily, there was a wariness in her face that Beck had seen far too often since the Attacks.

He shook the proffered hand. "Nice to meet you, Frankie," he said. "Sorry I can't get up." He gestured at his naked chest, although he was relieved to realize he was at least wearing boxers.

"Don't let _me_ stop you," she winked, then chuckled as the blood rushed back into Heather's face. Frankie quickly sobered. "How do you feel?" she asked, moving closer and taking a critical look at the wound on Beck's face.

"Like shit on a stick," Beck acknowledged, wincing as she gently probed around the graze.

"Yeah, I would think a bullet glancing off your skull would do that to you. Well, your timing was excellent during your dance with death, but it sucks when it comes to medical supplies. We used up our last bit of antiseptic and bandages just two days ago, and Tomas isn't due with supplies until the day after tomorrow. You're lucky that you have an emergency kit, but there was only one set of bandages, and your Heather used those yesterday when she stopped the bleeding. So, all we can do is apply the antiseptic you have in the kit and leave the wound to heal in the open air."

Beck shrugged and winced. "Not the first time," he said.

"Good," Frankie nodded. "Now, I'm sure you'd like to get up, go to the bathroom, and take a look around, but all I'm going to let you do is the bathroom. Camilla will want to take a look at you before we get you dressed and walking around."

"Camilla?" Beck echoed.

"The closest thing to a doctor we have. Camilla didn't think you had a concussion, just needed to rest. But Heather wouldn't sleep all night, just in case something happened while you were out."

Beck glanced at her, and Heather cursed silently as she blushed again, and quickly averted her gaze.

"Do I dare ask who undressed me?" he asked drily.

"Oh, that was Manny and Booker," Frankie said airily. "Your modesty in front of the ladies is intact."

Beck quirked his lips. "I _am_ relieved," he replied, his tone warm and light.

Heather stared at him. Was he... _flirting_? While they were searching for his wife?

As if he read her thoughts, he said, "We're not here by accident, Frankie. We're looking for some people - people who were here six months ago. We're hoping they're here now."

Frankie frowned, looking interested. "We have a lot of people coming and going through here. Who are you looking for?"

"Simone and Maggie Beck. We were sent by Major Edward Beck."

"The one who defected?" Frankie asked.

Beck and Heather stared at her for a long, silent moment. "Yes," Beck finally said. "You _know_ about that?" He had assumed his defection would be a deep, dark secret within the ASA - the government wouldn't want the general populace to know that he had successfully defected, or that they had agreed to a neutral zone around Jericho and New Bern. Their control was still too fragile in certain areas of the country.

"Not a lot, and not through official channels," Frankie said, confirming his unspoken assumptions. "I wasn't even sure it really happened - he's someplace in Kansas, right?"

Beck and Heather exchanged glances. "Yeah," Beck sighed, "some place in Kansas. Anyway, he recently received word that his family was here six months ago. He couldn't come himself, so he sent us."

Frankie stared at him for so long it was all he could do not to squirm. "I wish I could help," she finally said slowly. "They _were_ here, but they left. Not quite two months ago. And I don't know where."

Beck hoped the depth of his disappointment didn't show in his face.

"Look," Frankie said briskly, standing and going to the door, "I'm going to go and make you guys breakfast. Camilla will be here soon and once she's given the okay, we can talk some more and I'll show you around. I don't know where they went, but somebody else here might. Or Gregory - only he's gone hunting at the moment. Just left the day before yesterday." She glanced at Heather, whose dismay was clearly written on her face. "I'll call you, Heather, when breakfast is ready." She gently closed the door behind her as she left.

Beck and Heather were silent for several long moments after they were alone. Beck avoided Heather's gaze as he struggled to adjust to the disappointment. He hadn't realized how much he had hoped - expected - them to be here, until he was told they were gone.

"We're not done yet, you know," Heather said, her voice pitched low.

He reluctantly met her eyes. "I know," he replied, swallowing his disappointment and fear, and starting to process the information Frankie had given them.

"And they were alive less than two months ago," she continued earnestly, trying to infuse hope into his eyes. "We know that now for sure."

"Yes."

Heather frowned at him, concerned, wondering if that bullet had done more damage than she thought. "That's _good_ , isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then...what's wrong?"

"The timing."

*/*/*/*/*


	8. Chapter 8

 */*/*/*/*

Camilla arrived after breakfast, and turned out to be a strikingly beautiful African-American woman in her thirties. Beck's jaw literally dropped when she walked in the room, much to Heather's surprise, and, she had to admit, amusement. It wasn't often that she saw Beck knocked off balance by anything, although he quickly recovered.

Camilla pronounced Beck fit enough to get out of bed, praised his hard head and warned him that he'd have a headache for a few more days.

"I'm impressed that you stayed in bed," Camilla teased gently as she checked the wound on his arm. "You were unconscious the last time I saw you, but you certainly don't strike me as someone who would be a good patient."

" _She_ hid my clothes," Beck muttered, shooting a speaking look at Heather where she was standing by the window. Heather stared serenely back, thinking that there had been an evil glint in his eyes when they were arguing that told her he would have walked around in the borrowed boxers and nothing else if Camilla had withheld her blessing to leave the bed.

Camilla chuckled lightly. "Good thinking," she complimented Heather. "You can let him get dressed now, though. And welcome to Antelope Wells." With those words and a grin, Camilla left them alone.

Heather went out to the car and brought in their gear and Beck left the bedroom to get showered and dressed. Frankie assured her that there was plenty of water, and that Heather would be able to wash her clothes whenever she wanted, so she took the opportunity to change into her spare set of clothes.

"Ready to go?" Frankie asked after Beck met Frankie and Heather in the livingroom, At their nod, she led them out the door.

Beck and Heather blinked in the sun, and surveyed the place. It was a tent city with the tents seemingly pitched wherever there was room and without any apparent rhyme or reason. It was somewhat reminiscent of a Renaissance Fair as each tent had something unique and colourful flying from it for ease of identification.

Upon closer inspection, however, Heather realized the tents were arranged in a rather haphazard semi-circle around the only permanent buildings in the settlement - two identical double-wide trailers, one of which they had just left, on either side of a low-slung, one-storey building. The end result was an ad-hoc town square, although there was nothing "square" about it, and definitely nothing "town" about it, either. It was bare, hard dirt with a fire pit in the middle and nothing else. Heather thought Jericho was a small town, but it was a bustling metropolis compared to this place.

"Our intel said there were 10,000 people here," Beck said, his voice carefully neutral.

"Well, I think that 10,000 people have passed through, but we certainly couldn't support that many for any length of time," Frankie replied. "Right now, we have 113 people who have decided to stay here, and 43 people who are currently passing through - not counting you two. Anyway, the people passing through will stay here until they rest up, and decide where they're going to head next. Some of them may decide to settle here permanently, although it's too soon to tell."

"Passing through?" Heather asked curiously.

Frankie nodded, then gestured for them to follow her. "Antelope Wells is... _was_ a border crossing. After the Attacks, and after the cities erupted into riots and violence, a lot of people headed south towards Mexico, hoping they could find help and sanctuary there. I was one of them, and among the first people here. The customs employees had left at some point, and really,who could blame them?

"Anyway, Mexico had already closed their borders, so we ended up with a huge number of desperate people with no place to go. Our standard operating procedure now, which started as a whim more than anything else, is to have everybody fill out a customs form - just so we could later say they had been here, and with any luck, say where they had gone next. We hoped it would help families find each other, when things finally got back to something approaching normal."

"What happened to them all?" Heather asked.

"Well, it depends. Right after the EMP, which sent Mexico into its own tailspin, quite a few people slipped across the border. The Mexican customs officials across the way there," she gestured to the south, where Heather and Beck could see an identical set of permanent buildings, "were kind enough to look the other way; even suffering the effects of the EMP they were still in better shape than we were. Most people headed into Texas, though, and some went north." Frankie shook her head as she opened the door to the one-storey building.

"The Mexicans want to provide more help but by the time they were in a position to do that, the ASA had come into existence, and basically told them their assistance wasn't welcome except through strictly official and tightly controlled channels. Of course, the ASA didn't know about _us_ until a couple months ago, so we didn't know the borders had been closed. I've always suspected our colleagues across the border knew, but just ignored the directive. Regardless, we have some established... _unofficial_ channels to get supplies and help. That's where Tomas comes in."

As she spoke, Frankie led the way to a back office, nodding hello to the two people who were working in the office and the three or four people who were waiting for service. Frankie knocked once on the open office door and led the way inside. The man behind the desk stood as they came in. He was of medium height, mid-forties, Hispanic and stocky with black hair, chocolate-brown eyes and a broad, open face. He wasn't exactly handsome, but he radiated vitality and charm.

"Ah," he said, "our wounded soldier."

Beck and Heather stared at him.

"I can recognize a military man when I see one," he shrugged, "especially when you're standing." He came around the desk and shook Beck's hand. "I'm Manny. Nice to meet you when you're conscious." He smiled widely, and something about that grin reminded Heather of Stanley, and she felt a sudden sharp pang of homesickness.

Beck gave his quirk of a smile. "Glad to _be_ conscious this time around," he replied.

"And Heather, good to see you again."

She smiled and shook his hand. She had been too worried about Beck and his unconscious state to be very sociable with Manny and Booker the night before.

"Has Frankie given you the ten-cent tour?"

"Not yet," Frankie replied. "I brought them straight here."

Manny nodded. "Camilla told me you're looking for Simone and Maggie Beck. You know they're no longer here?"

Beck and Heather nodded.

"Gregory isn't due back for three weeks - he's off hunting. But if they're still in New Mexico, he'll know where they are, or he'll be able to find them."

"How - " Beck started.

"Gregory is the last of the mountain men, I think," Frankie replied, affection in her tone. "He roams all over the state, and I think he knows, or knows of, every pocket of survivors around. He makes this his home base, but he goes out every month or so, and spends three to six weeks hunting. Not for us," she clarified, "for _them_."

"Anyway, you just missed him," Manny said. "There may be people here who know where Simone, Maggie and the others were headed, so feel free to ask around. We can also get Tomas to ask questions when he heads north later this week. But it will take him about three weeks to make his circuit - he has people depending on his supply runs." Manny shook his head. "Quite honestly, Gregory is going to be your best bet."

Beck nodded. "Okay," he sighed. "We wait for Gregory, if we can't find anybody else who knows something. We do have a tent; where would you - "

"No, no," Frankie interrupted, "I have room. Manny and I each have three bedrooms which is why we act as hotels when necessary. And it's only for three or four weeks at most."

Beck assessed her silently, his head cocked to one side. He wondered what was behind the hospitality, and just how far he could trust the people in this place. They _had_ heard of him, after all, and he was sure the ASA, J &R and Ravenwood would pay handsomely for information about someone asking about his family, even if they didn't know it was him.

"You'd be doing a good deed," Frankie added persuasively, and Beck frowned. He glanced at Heather, and saw that she was frowning as well. And then she glanced at him and nodded.

"Okay, okay. We'll stay with you, Frankie," he sighed.

"Good," Manny said, rubbing his hands together, "that's settled. Now, let's show you two around, and see what we can find for you to do while you're here." He grinned at their expressions. "You didn't expect a free ride, did you? Come on, we'll give you the tour and get you settled."

As Beck followed them out the door, he wondered just what, exactly, they had gotten themselves into.  
  
  
\----------------------------------  
  
A/N:  Antelope Wells is a real place in New Mexico.  It really is a border crossing, and the only people there are the customs employees.  I intended to be very accurate in terms of geography but couldn't read the maps well enough to describe the geography.  So, for the purposes of this story, everything other than the place name and location is all made up.  :)


	9. Chapter 9

 */*/*/*/*

What struck Heather the most as she and Beck explored Antelope Wells with Manny and Frankie was the age of the people they encountered. They were so... _young_.

Frankie nodded when Heather brought it up at supper that night, exchanging glances with Manny and Camilla as the five of them sat at the table in Frankie's trailer.

"We have a lot of young people - a lot of _very_ young people," Frankie agreed, "and that brings its own set of problems - and not just because of their age. Over half of our population is under the age of twenty, and half of those are under the age of fifteen - and most of them are alone."

"How did they all get here?" Heather asked.

"A few came with family of some kind - their parents, aunts or uncles, siblings, cousins. Most, though..." Frankie paused and pressed her lips together before continuing. "Most weren't travelling with their companions willingly," she said carefully. "Their families died or abandoned them, and they were left on their own - vulnerable to anyone who promised them food and protection.

"We've learned to recognize the signs; to ask the hard questions of the groups when they come in. We rescue who we can - when we can."

"But we can't save all of them," Camilla sighed.

Beck's eyes showed his sympathy and horror, and respect. "But Maggie was here with Simone? Willingly?" he confirmed, and at Frankie's nod, he asked, "Was William here as well?"

Frankie nodded as Heather asked, puzzled, "William?"

"Simone's...well, husband, I guess you could say," Frankie replied casually.

Heather started, spilling her glass of water over the table. Frankie chuckled as Heather blushed and stammered an apology, and Frankie got up to get a rag to mop up the mess. Heather studiously averted her eyes from Beck's face, her mind whirling, even as the anger and confusion rose up inside. She'd be demanding an explanation from Beck as soon as she could get him alone.

"Anyway," Frankie continued as she came back from the kitchen after disposing of the wet rag and the dirty dishes, "for various reasons, we have a lot of very young people here, most of whom have lost their families, their friends and have already gone through more hell than they ever could have deserved. But they're making a home here." She smiled warmly at Manny and Camilla. " _We're_ making a home here."

"It helps that we're so isolated," Camilla added. "Quite honestly, not many people know we're here. Our refugees, of course, but for the most part, we've managed to stay below the radar. We're connected to the power grid in Mexico, but we're off the phone grid. Tomas keeps us supplied and informed, though - he's how we heard about Major Beck's defection."

Beck quirked his lips in his smile. "When did you hear about it?"

"Just over two months ago," Camilla replied. "Tomas came bearing a garbled story of a nuclear bomb being transported to Texas by a couple of wild mavericks and how some crazy Major Beck had defied the entire ASA and Texan armies to protect some hick town in Kansas."

Frankie grinned at him. "Simone said that _had_ to be her ex-husband - because nobody else would be that crazy. Or stubborn. Or self-sacrificing."

Heather stared at Beck. _Ex_ -husband?

Beck didn't show any reaction by sheer force of will. In spite of all that had happened before his last deployment, before the Attacks, it mattered to him what Simone thought of him, and it...pleased him that she immediately thought it was him; that she believed that he had that strength of character; that she believed he had that desire to serve a higher purpose. He might have accepted her decision and signed the divorce papers, but he still loved her very much and he always would - he just wasn't _in_ love with her anymore, he realized - and when _that_ had happened was anybody's guess.

Nothing like the end of the world for soul searching and brutal honesty, he thought wryly.

"Anyway," Frankie continued bringing Beck's attention back to the present, "once Simone and Maggie decided that this crazy Major Beck was _their_ crazy Major Beck, we realized that they needed to be careful - being related to the ASA's public enemy number one is not necessarily a healthy thing to be."

Beck turned his attention to Manny. "Is that when you decided they had to leave?"

Manny shook his head. "No. That was after Ravenwood showed up."

Heather and Beck froze and exchanged glances. Beck knew J&R had received the intel about his family, but he had hoped they had received it through different channels, not through Ravenwood. "Ravenwood?" Beck asked, his voice tight. "When did they show up?"

"About two months ago. They asked for all our records - we hadn't expected that, for some reason," Manny replied thoughtfully.

"Were they looking for Simone and Maggie?"

Frankie shrugged. "They didn't _seem_ to be. They didn't ask for them by name, if that's what you mean. They took our records; asked for all our names; assured us that Jennings and Rall would arrive soon to render aid and then they...left."

"Why didn't they grab Simone and Maggie then?" Heather asked.

"Because they weren't here." Frankie gave a half-smile. "They decided to take a short trip to Mexico that day." She gave them a full grin at the look on their faces. "Short-range radios are very useful - and we'd heard about - or experienced - Ravenwood before."

"Anyway," Manny continued, "once Ravenwood left and we realized we hadn't gone through the records, it was decided that Simone and Maggie needed to leave as soon as possible. And they did - along with William and a group of refugees who were ready to move on. But where they are, I honestly don't know. I'm sorry, Sam."

Beck nodded, absorbing the information and fighting down the worry.

"But we _are_ happy to see you," Manny said, breaking into Beck's reverie. "You're a soldier - a real one - and you belong on this side of the border. You can help Booker with defense, as well as training. And as for Heather - " Manny frowned slightly as he looked at her, obviously trying to determine where she would be the most useful.

"Heather's a mechanic. She can fix just about anything," Beck said, an unconscious trace of pride in his voice.

"You're a mechanic?" Frankie exclaimed delightedly.

"Actually, I'm an elementary school teacher," Heather replied, "but I've been a full-time mechanic for the last three months. In between was..." she glanced at Beck, " _complicated_."

Frankie nodded, glancing between the two. "And you, Sam? Any hidden skills?"

Beck shook his head. "Just a soldier trying to do his job," he replied, his own eyes flickering to Heather and away again.

It took some doing, but Beck managed to avoid being alone with Heather for the rest of the evening and the next morning, and he thanked his lucky stars that Frankie had two empty bedrooms. He knew Heather had been shocked by the revelation about William, and he honestly didn't know what he was going to tell her when she finally had the opportunity to ask him about it. He didn't even understand his reasons himself.

The next day, Beck met Booker, a tall, lean redhead a few years younger than Heather, with bright blue eyes that were far too old for his youthful face.

Booker might have been young, but he was incredibly bright and Beck was impressed by the thinking, planning and training Booker had already completed. There were rotating shifts to man the roadblock, scheduled training sessions and Booker took full advantage of Antelope Wells' location.

"There's only one road into town from the north, and the terrain is rough enough that an attack across country is remote. With the Mexican guards at the border, we’re well protected from the south as well - unless Mexico decided to attack."

"You've done a good job," Beck complimented.

"I go across often," Booker explained, jerking his head to the south. "I talk to the soldiers and the CO, get advice and ideas. Well," he added, "if they speak English. My Spanish is getting better," he hastily added, "but it's still really bad."

Beck quirked his lips. "It'll come," he said. "You're doing really well; I'm not sure what I can do for you, especially since I won't be here for long."

"Whatever you can suggest and do while you're here, sir, will be greatly appreciated. Trust me," and for a moment Booker's face was as old as his eyes, "we need all the help we can get."

Beck struggled to control his reaction to the stark look on Booker's face. He silently cursed this new world, almost shaking with rage, thinking the kid in front of him should be somewhere planning how to get laid, not planning defenses for a town that was just barely clinging to existence. Thinking he should know where his own kid was, where his own wife was - Beck forced his emotions to calm as he nodded and clapped a hand on Booker's shoulder. "Let's see what we can do," he said, his voice calm and confident and without any hint of the turmoil he felt inside.

While Beck was speaking with Booker, Heather was walking with Manny and several guards on the way to a ranch located about a mile and a half from the town if they went cross-country.

"The ranch is where Antelope Wells got its name," Manny explained as they walked. "It's where we keep our animals. There are, oh, ten to fifteen people there at any one time, caring for and protecting the place. If you can get some of the tractors going again, or tell us what's needed - and maybe give some pointers to our crew about maintenance..." Manny trailed off.

Heather smiled at him. "I'll see what I can do," she said, "although we don't know how long we'll be here."

Manny nodded. "Whatever you can do," he assured her, his broad, open face sincere. "We need whatever help we can get."

When Beck and Heather returned to Frankie's trailer, it was to find that another group of refugees had arrived while they had been busy elsewhere. It was a small group, about a dozen people, who had walked the last twenty miles or so when the last of their vehicles ran out of gas and had to be abandoned. They were dirty and starving, and most of them had the long distance stare of people who were still living in a nightmare but didn't have the energy to care anymore. Even now, over a year after the Attacks, after the ASA declared New Mexico their territory, after Jennings and Rall had moved in with their distribution and record-keeping machinery, there was still too much chaos, too much violence, too much death. The refugees sitting dispiritedly on the hard dirt of the town square proved that all too clearly.

Beck and Heather watched as Frankie and the rest swung into action, before they were pulled into helping as well. By the time everything was said and done, the new refugees had been fed, had showered in either Manny's or Frankie's trailers, been given clean clothes and were now in tents, getting ready for sleep.

"Where did all the tents and clothes come from?" Heather asked casually when they were finally alone in Frankie's trailer, getting ready for sleep themselves.

"Tomas' predessor, Rick, found most of them," Frankie replied. "Tomas continues to get  what he can for us - although not quite in the same way." Heather frowned at her; there was an odd tone in her voice as she spoke. Frankie met her eyes and gave her a small half-smile, completely unlike her usual smile.

"Rick did a lot of good things," Frankie said, "but I'm not sorry he's gone. He..." she hesitated. "Let's just say that he drove a hard bargain."

Heather frowned at her and glanced at Beck, who was looking at Frankie with dawning realization and sympathy.

"Ah," he said.

Frankie glanced at him and then away, her shrug painfully nonchalant. "Yes."

Heather's frown deepened and Frankie sighed and sat down at the table facing Beck and Heather.

"Are you saying," Heather started hesitantly, "that you...you..."

"Traded sex for food and supplies?" Frankie asked bluntly, and gave a small, bitter laugh, avoiding their eyes. "Yes. I did. You're lucky, Heather," Frankie said softly, staring at her hands which she placed flat on the table, "you have practical skills that make you valuable in this brave new world. I had never even planted a flower! I was a middle-management paper-pusher and I didn't even have the tools to open a can when the power failed. Bare bones, high tech - that was me. And not a single survival skill to my name. Tell me," she asked, her tone rueful, "what do you do when your only asset is the ass you're sitting on?"

Frankie sighed, then straightened her spine and looked them straight in the eyes. "I'm not proud of what I had to do, but I'm still _here_. I _survived_ \- and I've thrived. Yes, I traded sex for transportation and food, and then I traded sex for supplies for this town.  I've built a new home and created a new place for myself.  I did what I had to do, and I would do it again - although now I _do_ have more practical survival skills.  "

Heather reached out and hesitantly touched the back of Frankie's hand. "You don't have to justify yourself to us," she said softly, her eyes shining with sympathy.

"We've all done things we regret," Beck added, his voice gentle, "and Heather's right. You don't need to justify yourself to us. Not for that. Not for surviving."

Frankie nodded and stood up from the table. "We've all survived a lot to get to this place. We've made a home. And we're going to stay here. Anyway," she added, her tone suddenly brisk, "we're going to have a long day tomorrow - Tomas will be arriving early. I'm going to go to bed." She gave them a crooked smile. "I'll see you in the morning," she said and left them alone.

*/*/*/*/*


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Non-graphic violence, including against women.

 */*/*/*/*

Tomas, Heather saw when he and his men arrived, was tall, dark and handsome, an expatriated American in his late thirties, a flirt and a charmer, with the cocksure personality and self-confidence of an action movie hero. Heather wondered how much of it was truly him, and how much of it was a persona he had created to survive in this new world. His brown eyes were intelligent and shrewd and saw much more than he shared, and when he saw Heather, he approached her with a charming grin and compliments that didn't fool her for a moment, even as she found herself alternating between laughing and preening at his extravagant praise.

Beck pegged him just as quickly as Heather had, but that didn't stop him from gritting his teeth as he watched Tomas charming Heather. When Tomas finally turned his attention to Beck, Tomas gave a rueful grin at the expression on Beck's face, but he was open and friendly with Beck. Unfotunately, he didn't have any information to add about Beck's family, but he promised to see what, if anything, he could find during his circuit to the north.

Tomas' circuit was short - he generally took two weeks to go from his home in Mexico to his stops in New Mexico then back to his home, where he spent at least a week. He usually spent a couple of days at each stop, and at least four days in Antelope Wells. Sometimes he took longer, sometimes shorter. This trip to the north was going to be faster than normal, and that night, at a town meeting held in the town square, Manny and Frankie laid out the reasons why he would be returning sooner than normal, and their plans for the next few weeks.

They were ready to build, to create more permanent buildings than the tents, and they used the meeting to lay out their plans to the town and to start to coordinate the work force.

"Tomas will be bringing refined lumber from the north, " Manny said. "We will also be logging in the mountains to the west. We've scouted the area, and we've found no sign of settlements in the area. We should be able to harvest logs and bring them back to town without fear of ambush, but we'll be working with Booker to ensure we have a guard detail at all times. At this point, we're hoping to build at least ten houses."

"They're not going to be much," Frankie warned, "but they'll be better than the tents. If we build them right, they won't blow away in the first big windstorm of the year. We'll get started immediately, but we won't get into high gear until Tomas returns. He and his men have agreed to stop on their way back and help by taking over guard duty on the roadblock and at the ranch, so we can focus on the harvesting of logs and the building. That means if all goes well, we'll have the ten houses built in the next three weeks."

For a moment as the crowd cheered and applauded, Heather couldn't help feeling awed by the resilience of the people in the square. These people were creating a new home for themselves from basically nothing, with no ties to this place and these people other than the ones they chose to claim. They had lost everything, and were creating a new home and a new family, even those who were far too young to be making those types of decisions on their own. It was inspiring, and gave Heather hope that they would all survive what had happened, as well as the war that was still to come.

The next day, Beck was with Booker on the roadblock when a new group of four refugees arrived, three men and a woman. Beck and Booker shrewdly assessed the group and knew they had a potential problem. The woman was young, in her early twenties, blonde, slender and from the way she cringed when the leader of the group put his hand on her shoulder, they knew she wasn't happy to be travelling with those men.

Booker confiscated the weapons the group was carrying, and sent them down the road to the town. He then radioed to let Frankie and Manny know that a group was coming and it appeared the woman was a captive.

By the time Beck and Booker arrived back in town that night, Adrienne was bunking at Frankie's trailer, while the men were at Manny's, and Beck no longer had a place to sleep.

"I want you to stay in the trailer with us," Frankie explained, "but until we know for sure what's happened to Adrienne, it's best if we have only women sleeping here."

Beck nodded. "Makes sense. I have a tent; where should I pitch it?"

"How about right outside the door?" Frankie suggested. "That way you're still close by if anything should happen." She frowned as she watched the men who had arrived with Adrienne - Vic, Frank and George - walking around the town. "They don't strike me as the types to let go very easily," she added.

When Heather returned from the ranch that night, she discovered a tent in the front yard of Frankie's trailer, a fragile blonde in the third bedroom and Beck eating supper at Manny's. She understood the reasoning, but she still felt uneasy about the arrangements.

Beck knew he was in trouble when he returned from Manny's to find Heather sitting with Frankie on the steps to the trailer, enjoying the cool of the evening after the heat of the day. He didn't quite know why Heather looked unhappy; he hadn't even seen her that day since he had been up and gone before the women had been awake.

Beck looked at the determined set of Heather's chin and turned to Frankie. "Anyplace we can go to fight in private?" he asked.

Frankie laughed. "Sorry - you're on your own there! Just try to keep your voices down - you don't want to scare the neighbours."

"We're not going to be yelling," Heather protested.

Frankie only laughed again and went into the trailer, leaving them alone.

Beck sighed and glanced around. "I guess we should go into the tent. It's not much privacy, but at least it's something."

The tent was small with barely enough room for two people. Neither Beck nor Heather could stand fully upright in it. Beck lit the camping lantern and then turned back to Heather. He sat down on the sleeping bags he had placed in the tent earlier, and invited her to do the same.

"You look pretty pissed - what's the problem?" he asked, leaning back on his hands and cocking his head to one side as he observed her. Heather marvelled that he was still able to have the air of calm command about him, even when sitting on the ground in a too-small tent, his legs stretched out in front of him. She tried not to notice the length of his denim clad legs as he stretched out in front of her.

Instead, she gave him a mock glare, but let his comment pass without a challenge. They really didn't have much privacy, she thought, as a group of people walked by, their voices carrying clearly to where they were sitting.

"I'm not too happy that you're camping out in front of Frankie's by yourself," she said.

"Well, it makes sense. Adrienne needs a safe place to stay, and a man in the place is likely going to cause more problems than it solves."

Heather looked mutinous. "I don't care," she replied. "We're supposed to be looking out for each other. How can I do that if you're out here and I'm in there?"

Beck quirked his lips. "Do you want to bunk out here with me?" He cast a speaking glance around the tent. "Pretty close quarters," he added, his voice smooth, his eyes dark and amused.

Heather glanced around, met his eyes and flushed. "Well..." she said, shifting uncomfortably, but without a ready response.

"I'm just outside the door," Beck said, his voice soothing. "I don't expect I'll be attacked in my sleep." He paused, then added, his voice very deliberate, his gaze steady on hers, "I'm not going to leave without you."

Heather stared at him, her eyes wide and surprised. "That...that's not - "

"Yeah, it is. You think I'll get a lead on Simone and Maggie's location, and I'll leave you here while I go find them. You don't trust me to take you with me."

"Well, I _did_ until now!" Heather blurted.

Beck gave a short huff that was almost a chuckle. "Sorry for putting that thought into your head, then," he said, his eyes warm and amused.

Heather blinked at him, then reluctantly smiled. "That wasn't it, you know," she said quietly.

"No?" he asked, and cocked his head. "Then what was it?"

"I had hoped to be able to talk with you - in private - about..." Heather hesitated, and looked behind her as another group walked by. She turned and met Beck's gaze, raising her eyebrows.

"About...William?" he guessed.

"Among other things," she agreed. "There are a lot of things I still don't understand. About you and your actions, your reasoning," she clarified when he frowned. "And I'd like you to explain things to me." She shrugged at his skeptical look. "I'd like you to explain _yourself_."

Beck shifted to a more comfortable position and watched her carefully. "If I agree," he said slowly, "can we call a truce? Just for the duration of this trip? You can go back to hating my guts when we get back to...when we get back."

She cocked her head and leaned back on her hands in turn. "Will you promise to answer _any_ question I ask you?"

"If I can," Beck nodded. "Or else I'll tell you it's none of your business," he added with a quirk of his lips.

Heather gave him another reluctant smile. "Okay," she said, "we have a truce." She leaned forward and held out her hand. Beck slowly leaned forward, took her hand and shook it. "This doesn't mean I'm not going to yell at you when we do find a place to talk," she warned.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Beck replied solemnly, with a gleam of amusement in his eyes.

"Okay, then. I'll...let you get to sleep," she said, and he watched as she nodded awkwardly and made her exit from the tent.

He was startled when she immediately poked her head back through the flap.

"For the record," she said shyly, "I've never hated your guts." And then she was gone.

He stared at the tent opening, bemused, before he shook his head, chuffed out another chuckle and started getting ready for sleep. That was definitely not what he had expected when he had seen her waiting for him. Even if he had to answer her questions, being at peace with her - and knowing she didn't hate him - was worth whatever questions he had to answer. Well, almost.

As Beck got ready for bed, he resolutely turned his mind from Heather to thoughts of the next day.

He had talked to all the people who worked with Booker and all he had managed to discover was confirmation that Simone, Maggie and William had left with a group headed deeper into New Mexico - but no one knew where. The group probably hadn't known themselves which way they were headed or where they would end up.

Beck was scheduled to be on the roadblock for one more day, and then he was being moved to guard the building effort, and that was likely where he would stay until Gregory returned. He would continue to advise Booker, but during down time rather than while they were on guard duty together. He was also helping Booker with his Spanish.

Being moved to the building effort would allow Beck to talk to people he hadn't yet had a chance to meet. His mission had already filtered through the town, though, and people were coming up to him on their own to tell him they had known Simone or Maggie or William, but the stories were all the same. They had been in Antelope Wells; they had left, and nobody knew where.

Tomas might find something out in the next week or so while he was delivering supplies, but Beck had reluctantly reconciled himself to the fact that he needed to wait for Gregory to return from his hunting trip. Which meant that he and Heather were in Antelope Wells for another three to four weeks. With a resigned sigh, he rolled himself into his sleeping bags and waited for sleep.

The next day was routine. Tomas was at the roadblock with Beck and Booker, discussing what supplies the defenders needed and what was available to traded for those supplies. There was also the possibility that some of Booker's people could go with Tomas to provide protection as he travelled throughout New Mexico, and perhaps trade their knowledge and skills for supplies for Antelope Wells.

While Tomas was there, Frankie called on the short-range radio and spoke to Booker for some time.

"Frankie and Heather have managed to get the story out of Adrienne," Booker informed the other two when he returned. "Adrienne had joined Vic, Frank and George willingly. Like Frankie, she traded sex - to Vic - for transportation, but things haven't quite gone the way she expected. Vic's starting to get violent with her, and Frank and George are starting to circle around. She made the deal with Vic, not the other two. Anyway, she wants to stay here, at least until Vic and the others are gone."

"I've seen men like him before," Tomas warned. "He won't leave her behind without a fight."

Beck nodded. He'd seen men like him before, too.

"I know," Booker sighed. "We'll be escorting them out of town today. Frankie's a bit worried about it; she's left Heather with Adrienne for now. She'd like us - " he gestured to Tomas and Beck "to get back ASAP so we can be there when she breaks the news that Adrienne is staying here, and they're no longer welcome."

A car came up to the roadblock as Booker spoke. The car was a group from a town down the road, hoping to trade some vegetables for some meat. After exchanging news with the people in the car, people Booker had met before, Booker sent them on to the ranch. The three men then hopped into Tomas' truck and headed into town and went to the customs office.

"Thank God you guys have arrived," the young girl behind the counter said when they walked in, her eyes worried. "Vic and his two friends were in here about an hour ago, and they argued pretty loudly with Frankie when they found out that Adrienne didn't want to rejoin them. Frankie headed over to her trailer to check on Heather and Adrienne, but that was almost half an hour ago. Manny's out getting logs from the mountains along with practically everybody else, and I don't know where Vic and the others are. I was just about to go over there to check, but I'm really glad you guys are here."

The three men exchanged glances, thanked and reassured the girl, and headed to Frankie's.

Beck led the way to the trailer, and found the door locked. He glanced at the others, and with a nod, Tomas and Booker stood back as Beck kicked the door in. They piled into the trailer, and with a glance, they saw Frankie punching George and Heather pushing Frank away from Adrienne, only to have Vic's fist connect with Heather's face, knocking her down.

Beck's vision went red and he rushed across the room, grabbing Vic by the shoulder, spinning him around, and slamming his fist into Vic's face. Vic went down, and Beck pulled him back to his feet and punched him again. Vic hit the floor like a sack of bricks, out cold, and Beck glanced towards Tomas and Frankie, who had George down on the floor, and Booker, who had Frank under control.

Beck turned his attention to Heather, sitting in an untidy heap on the livingroom floor, her hand holding her face, livid bruises already forming on her cheek and around her eye. She stared at Beck with furious, tear-filled eyes as he crouched beside her, gently urging her hand down so he could assess the damage Vic had inflicted.

"I'm okay," she snapped, angry and chagrined and embarrassed all at the same time. She glanced at Adrienne who was sobbing on Frankie's shoulder while Tomas and Booker tied the three men's hands behind their backs.

"Let me determine that," Beck replied as he gently probed the bruises.

"I thought the other one was more of an immediate threat, but I guess I should have hit _him_ first," Heather muttered, wincing away from Beck's fingers.

"Stop squirming," Beck commanded as he continued to examine her.

"Well, it hurts!"

"Oh, stop being such a baby," he muttered, and his lips quirked as she huffed angrily. But she stopped squirming. "I think you'll live," Beck said finally, meeting her eyes, his own dark and deep with some indefinable emotion lurking in their depths. Heather was suddenly very conscious of Beck's hands on her face, warm and calloused and soothing while at the same time sending bright electric shocks shivering through her.

He slowly dropped his hands from her face, then stood, pulled her to her feet, and placed his hands on her shoulders. She stared at him, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her skin pale beneath the forming bruises. He wrapped his arms around her, carefully pressing the uninjured side of her face against his chest, his hand tangled gently in her hair. He rocked her for a moment as she hesitated then relaxed against him, allowing him to comfort her, and she tried not to think how good it felt to be pressed against him.

"If you're going to insist on defending people," he sighed, "I'm going to have to train you in the art of self-defence."

She reluctantly smiled against his chest, listening to the sound of his rapid heartbeat. "I'd appreciate it," she replied, her voice muffled. In spite of the pain in her head and the humiliation of being punched by a guy like Vic, she felt...she felt... _at peace_.

With a small squeeze, Beck slowly released her, hoping she didn't notice his reluctance to let her go. He gave her a reassuring look, and then they turned to the others. The three men were tied up and sitting on the floor, and Adrienne had stopped sobbing, although she still looked frightened.

"Go clean up," Frankie urged Adrienne, speaking gently. "If you're not up to it, just go to bed, and I'll check on you in a bit."

Adrienne nodded, and shuffled away, glancing back at Vic and the others with a frightened look.

Tomas and Booker took the three men to the customs office, where they were locked in a storage room that was used as a makeshift jail cell when necessary. When they returned, Heather was holding a towel filled with ice against her face and Frankie, Beck and Heather were discussing next steps.

"Take them far enough out of town that they won't come back," Beck told Booker, his face grim. "Give them some supplies, and leave weapons about a mile or so away from them. Make sure they understand that if they come back, they won't be allowed past the roadblock."

Frankie opened her mouth to protest, then frowned and subsided.

"I'm sorry, Frankie - but you can't give them a second chance in this case. They were going to force Adrienne to go with them, weren't they? Try to head across the border with her?"

Frankie hesitated. "Yeah, that was their plan," she agreed. "I know you're right, Sam. It just...it just feels wrong. Even now."

Beck nodded. "I know. But it's the only way."

Booker and Tomas nodded, and headed out to escort the three men out of town.

After they had left, Frankie glanced in the direction of Adrienne's bedroom, then looked at Beck. "Do you think they'll stay gone?" she asked in a low voice.

Beck stared back at her for a long moment. "No."

Frankie sighed and nodded. "Didn't think so."

*/*/*/*/*


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This is a dark chapter with disturbing concepts.

 */*/*/*/*

Two days after the confrontation with Vic and his men, the left side of Heather's face had blossomed with colourful bruises. It made Beck furious every time he looked at her and he cursed himself for not having the three men summarily shot. Instead he comforted himself with the thought that they had been taken a good hundred miles away and left in the middle of nowhere with only enough ammunition to keep themselves fed - _if_ they were good shots.

It wasn't much comfort, but it was better than nothing.

Heather seemed to have recovered nicely from the experience, except for the bruises. Beck glanced over at her sitting in the passenger seat of the car they had driven from Kansas. They were headed out of town to find a spot where the cell phone would pick up a signal. They had been gone for ten days and they needed to know the status of things back in Jericho, and to let those left behind know that they were okay.

Although neither of them openly acknowledged it, it was also the opportunity they needed in order to speak in complete privacy. They had called a truce, and over the last two days, their relationship had eased somewhat - almost edging towards the friendly, supportive relationship they had had before Bonnie's death. But Heather couldn't keep the unspoken questions from festering below the surface, and she found herself getting angry every time she thought about the fact that Beck hadn't shared that he and Simone were separated - or divorced - and there was another man in the picture. And that was only one small piece of the things she didn't understand about him.

Although he had shared his reasoning for his actions after Bonnie's death, she still didn't know what to think or what to do. She didn't hate his guts, she never had, but she didn't know if she could let her anger at his actions go, or if she could forgive him for what he had done.

As for Beck, he knew Heather was still angry with him, and as much as he didn't want to have the pending conversation, he hoped it would clear the air and allow them to start again. To rebuild the mutual respect they had once held for each other. Or at least allow them to be more than civil strangers. He... _missed_ her, and over the last two nights, as he tried to fall asleep in the tent outside of Frankie's trailer, he finally acknowledged that he dreaded their return to Jericho, when he would lose her - her friendship - again.

They drove mostly in silence, both feeling the conversation looming ahead of them. And, Heather thought wryly, it may be better to have it when neither of them were driving, just in case they got too angry to pay attention to what they were doing.

They finally had a strong signal on the cell phone about 40 miles out of town, and Beck pulled over so Heather could call Hawkins, who happened to be in the sheriff's office with Clark and Jake. While they were careful in what they said and Heather used the code name Bo, they managed to exchange the necessary information in the least amount of time.

When Heather shut the phone after speaking to the three men, she sighed sadly and frowned. She hadn't realized how much she had missed other familiar voices until she had spoken to them. With another sigh, she turned to give Beck a status report.

Although the citizens of the town knew he and Heather were gone, Beck's absence was still a secret from anybody outside of Jericho, Beck was not a conceited man, and he knew the men under his command were competent and more than capable of fending off an attack from almost any quarter, but he was still relieved to learn that those outside of Jericho - especially Constantino - hadn't yet learned of his absence and used that fact to attack. Beck's absence couldn't be a secret forever, but the longer it could be hidden, the better it would be.

Beck sat down on the ground, his back braced against the body of the car. With a sigh, Heather gently tossed the phone into the passenger seat and then settled herself beside him, fighting back a sharp wave of homesickness. They stared out over the landscape for a few moments in silence, and Heather couldn't help but be struck by its rugged beauty, so different from Kansas. She admired the view for a few moments, before she turned her honest blue eyes towards Beck.

"You promised to answer any question I asked," she stated.

He gave a quirk of his lips. "Unless I told you it was none of your business," he agreed. "What do you want to know?"

Heather hesitated. She wanted to confront him about Simone, but she didn't want him to know how angry she was that he had neglected to tell her that he was divorced, and that his ex-wife was with another man. She didn't want to think about why she was so angry about the point, either. Instead, she picked the other, equally important question she needed to ask.

"You were so loyal to the ASA," she said slowly, carefully choosing her words. "You followed all their orders - you let Goetz take over when you were ordered to do so. _Goetz_!" She almost spat the name. "How could you follow them so blindly? So loyally? Without question?" She didn't seem to be aware that she was raising her voice as her anger built.

"Blindly. Loyally. Without question," Beck mused softly. "I could ask you the same thing about Jake."

"He saved us - time and again," Heather snapped, her eyes blazing. "He protected us. Sacrificed for us. Put his life on the line for us. He's _earned_ my loyalty and trust. What did the ASA, or Jennings and Rall - or _Ravenwood_ \- do to earn _yours_?"

Beck stared at her silently, his face stoic, his expression unreadable. He searched her face for any sign that she realized how naive her questions sounded, how _sheltered_ she, and everyone in Jericho, had truly been from the aftermath of the Attacks - any sign that she realized how lucky they had been to live in the middle of nowhere, Kansas while the majority of the country was convulsed in agony.

All Beck could see in her face was her honest confusion, her honest... _contempt_ for the choices he had made. And her honest desire to know and to understand.

He wavered for a long moment between a desire to protect her naivete and innocence, and his desire to _make her understand_ what it had been like in the world outside Jericho and New Bern. But there were memories he didn't want to resurrect, acts he didn't want to acknowledge. If he told her -

She met his gaze steadily, her eyes wide and blue and begging him to tell her _something_ that would help her _understand_. She wasn't a child, Beck thought grimly, and she deserved to know the truth about him and about the world after the Attacks.

With a blink, he looked away from her, staring at a point in the distance. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to consciously _remember_ , and then he began to speak.

"I was in a godforsaken village in a remote area of Iraq when we got the news," he said, his voice calm and distant, almost dreamy, like he was talking about things that happened to somebody else. "It took a week to get back to Baghdad. Insurgents dogged us every step of the way - we lost a lot of troops. Then we were under siege in Baghdad; not a moment's respite while we waited to evacuate. It was controlled chaos, exacerbated by the lack of communication with the States. There was no commander-in-chief; no Joint Chiefs of Staff; no Pentagon. All gone in a moment. And we had tens of thousands of troops to get the hell back. We all had families. Friends. People we loved. We were far away from home and we couldn't help them. Help _anyone_.

"We were finally airlifted and brought to a base camp in Montana. It was... _uncontrolled_ chaos. There were mass desertions, and then, later, there were mass enlistments - people adrift, who had lost - or thought they had lost - everyone and everything, and had nowhere left to go. They saw our uniforms and thought they found sanctuary. They didn't know we were on the verge of starvation, just like they were. They didn't know that we had no clear path through the crisis either. And we - the commanding officers - did our best to keep it from them. We wanted them to feel...safe. Or as safe as they could possibly feel after what had happened.

"Some of the soldiers who went AWOL came back when they discovered their families and homes were gone. The lucky ones found their families and brought them back to the base camps in Montana, and then returned to duty to serve what was left of their country. To try and help those who couldn't help themselves. To bring order and peace, and hopefully healing, to a desperately wounded nation.

"We were initially placed on a circuit through the western cities that were destroyed by the Attacks. We were mostly passing through, assessing damages, looking for survivors. Anything - _anybody_ \- we could save. What we _found_ were the dead and the dying.

"And then came California.

"Well.

"California was the worst. What the bombs didn't destroy, the radiation did. All we could do was bury the dead and...and treat the dying mercifully. We had nothing to ease their pain, no place to send them, no hope to give them. The base camps didn't have any more room for victims of radiation poisoning, and no way to get them there quickly anyway. And we had all run out of morphine - with no supply yet found. And so we...we...used the only option left to us to help those who had no hope of recovery, whose only future was a horribly painful death.

"We put them out of their misery as painlessly as possible.

"There was nothing else we could do. We lived in Hazmat suits and decontamination tents. Each day we went out, hoping to find somebody we could save, only to be the ones...

"We were glad when we moved on. _So damned glad_.

"Our next assignment was into the areas not so directly affected by the bombs - where we only found different problems. New Bern and Jericho weren't the first towns involved in armed conflict that we saw. The only advantage to _these_ towns was that, while we buried the dead, we could actually help the living.

"Then we heard the majority of western states were supporting a President in Cheyenne, and we were ordered to head that way and find out what was happening. We didn't have a lot of hope for anything solid, but if nothing else, we needed to go back to Montana and get some rest.

"When the ASA came into existence, they were...a blessing. Hell, almost a miracle. Jennings and Rall - even Ravenwood - they were order in chaos. There was a commander-in-chief; coordinated operations. Clear direction from the top on how to achieve stability and peace. Stable supply chain. Hope for a return to the way things used to be. Calm reason in a world filled with devastated cities and mass graves and the dying, a world where monstrous acts were committed in the name of mercy, and peace and survival. I've seen - and I've _been_ \- the monster performing some of those acts.

"And nothing I've told you, nothing I've done, is even close to the worst I've seen done by others. I could tell you things..."

He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"There were - and are - beautiful things, too," he continued softly. "To be fair, to be honest there are many people like Manny and Frankie, Jake and Hawkins. Like you. I didn't only find monsters; I found... _heroes_. Truly beautiful human beings, those who found the best in themselves because of the Attacks. I found those - like you, like Jake, like the others - who run _into_ the flames, who risk their lives for others. Who hold on to their humanity at all cost, who hold on to the best of human nature. Good hearts. Good souls."

Beck tiredly rubbed his face, wincing a little as he touched the still-tender wound on his brow.

" _That's_ why I followed them blindly. Loyally. Without question. They were my hope that the world was going to get better."

He lapsed into silence.

After a moment, he realized that Heather was silently crying beside him. He didn't know what it said about him that he couldn't bring himself to comfort her even though his heart clenched at the soft sniffling sound she made. He didn't think he _wanted_ to know what it said about him.

With a sigh, he slowly stood, his whole body aching. He turned to face her for the first time since he started speaking and waited for her to look at him - waited to see if she _would_ look at him.

With a huge sniff, and a wipe of her nose on her sleeve, she finally looked up at him. She stared at him for a long moment, her blue eyes swimming with tears and horror and sadness, the bruise from Vic's fist livid on her pale skin. He swallowed, feeling like he had put that bruise on her face himself - or maybe an even worse bruise on her soul.

"We need to be getting back," he finally said, his voice low and husky. He was pleased that at least he _sounded_ kind, even if he felt like all the kindness had been beaten out of him. He held out a hand to help her up.

She stared at his hand for a moment, almost like she didn't recognize what it. His face tightened at the rejection, but just as he started to drop his hand, she reached up and grasped it, and let him pull her to her feet. He steadied her as she rose, and for a suspended moment, they simply stood and stared into each other's eyes.

With another sniff, Heather threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, surprising him, and knocking him back a step. His arms automatically went around her as he regained his balance.

"Wha - ?" he grunted.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in his ear. As abruptly as she had hugged him, she gave him one last quick squeeze and released him just as abruptly, almost jumping away from him.

He blinked at her, bemused and uncertain how to react.

She gave him a small, watery smile. "You're right. We need to get back," she said and got into the car.

After a stunned moment, he shook his head, then walked around and got behind the wheel. They drove back in silence to Antelope Wells and back to the needs of other people and the comforting distraction of hard work.

*/*/*/*/*


	12. Chapter 12

 */*/*/*/*

The next two days passed in a haze for Heather. Beck's story disturbed her greatly. She had thought New Bern had been brutal; that Constantino had been a monster - but it had been nothing compared to what Beck's story implied - what it told her about life outside of her narrow world of Jericho and New Bern. She didn't know what to say to him, or even how to look at him.

She remembered his eyes after he had told her about life before the ASA, after he had told her about California. She hadn't wanted to take his hand - she hadn't wanted to touch him at all. At least not until she had had time to process what he had told her. To make sense of it.

But she had seen his face - a mixture of wariness and vulnerability and loneliness - expecting her rejection and resigned to it, and she couldn't bring herself to hurt him. So, she took his hand, and she hugged him and told him she was sorry. And she _was_ sorry. She was sorry for him, for what he had had to face and the decisions he had had to make. She was sorry for the people he spoke about, for the suffering of the country. She was even sorry for her lack of knowledge and understanding of what he had seen and done before the ASA, before Jericho. But everything was jumbled in her head, and she needed time to sort things out for herself.

She told herself she wasn't deliberately trying to avoid him, but she admitted that she was relieved when she woke each morning to find that he had already left with the logging crew. She spent her days working hard at the ranch, which was still where their garage was located, thinking about what he had told her; thinking about all that he had seen and all that he had done before he came to Jericho.

Thinking about the things he _didn't_ tell her.

On the second evening, Heather was sitting at Frankie's kitchen table, staring at nothing, worrying away at what Beck had told her and what Beck had done in Jericho and to Jake. She hadn't seen him at all for the last two days. She told herself she wasn't avoiding him - but it was harder to convince herself that he wasn't avoiding her. Especially when he was at Manny's each evening when she came back to Frankie's and she never saw him return to his tent.

She was startled out of her brooding when the door opened, and Frankie came in with Camilla and two other women Heather didn't know well as they were on logging detail and she seldom saw them. The four women were laughing - hard.

"What - ?" Heather asked, giving them a puzzled smile as they tumbled into the trailer and towards the kitchen.

"Just came from Manny's," Frankie said. "We were checking on the men - God knows you have to when Manny's cooking!" She shook her head ruefully as she rummaged through the kitchen cupboards, pulling out cups and glasses as the women pulled up chairs at the table. "It's degenerating into a boy's night out - Manny's starting to share stories of past conquests, and the others are pretending to believe him. They were just starting to share their own tall tales of loves won and lost when we left. I'm pretty sure the stories will be much raunchier now that delicate female ears have left the building."

Heather stared at them. "B...B...B...Sam, too?" she stammered, so surprised she almost let Beck's real name slip out.

"Well, Sam's _listening_ ," Frankie replied, placing beers on the table. Heather took a sip as Frankie made herself comfortable, "but with a rather skeptical - although utterly adorable - look on his face. You know, Heather, you _really_ should just jump him already."

Heather choked on her beer as the other women laughed and hooted at the look on her face.

"He looked mighty fine in that bed," Frankie gave Heather a teasing look. Heather felt like her face was glowing; it certainly felt like her bruises were pulsing with colour like a strobe light.

"He looks mighty fine in the woods, too," one of the other women quipped. "I keep trying to lure him away from the others, but so far, no luck."

"What?!" Heather sputtered.

"Now, Heidi," Camilla said, "you'll be making Heather think that her Sam isn't working at all. Although, in case you haven't noticed," Camilla teased, turning her attention to Heather, "the man is _hot_. I'll bet _he_ has a few past stories I'd love to hear."

"I don't care about his past stories," Heidi sighed, "I just wish I could be one of his _future_ stories. But he's nothing _but_ work, Heather, and nowhere to be found in the evenings."

"Oh, like Devon would let you flitter off that easily!" the other woman, Steph, laughed. "I, on the other hand, have been tempted to sneak into Sam's tent, just to see how well he can escape in that situation!"

"Oh, and your Gabe would like that!" Heidi shot back. Steph shrugged off the comment with an airy wave and a wink.

Heather relaxed as the banter continued, realizing that the women were simply teasing each other - and her - but there was no real intent behind the words. She was still disconcerted, however, and she wasn't sure if it was because she was listening to "girl talk" for the first time in months, or because the "girl talk" was about Beck. She couldn't have this conversation in Jericho...at least, not with her circle of friends. There he was Major Beck, remote and authoritative, cold and disciplined behind his uniform, and not a subject that her friends considered worth their time - even if the situation hadn't been complicated by Bonnie's death and Jake's imprisonment.

Although if they could see him now, they might think differently, she admitted to herself as she listened to the conversation flow around her. Out of uniform, he looked dark and dangerous and sexy as hell, she admitted to herself, and sometimes what was burning in his eyes when he looked at her knocked the breath right out of her.

She quickly closed off those thoughts and tuned back into the raucous conversation around her. Adrienne had come out of the back bedroom to join the women around the table while Heather had been distracted, and Heather realized the conversation had now turned to Camilla and Manny. For the last few weeks, Manny had been rather shyly, but with utter charm, "courting" Camilla. It was currently the hottest topic of conversation in Antelope Wells.

"How long are you going to let him chase you before you finally catch him?" Steph asked.

Camilla gave her a severe look. "The poor man isn't ready for me to catch him yet," she replied, trying to achieve a haughty look and failing miserably. She dissolved into a happy grin, and leaned forward. "As soon as I can get him alone in his trailer," she whispered, "he's in for a _big_ surprise!"

"Or you are," Frankie quipped, and Heather couldn't remember the last time she had laughed that hard.

But that caused the conversation to turn to Frankie.

"What about you and Tomas?" Heidi asked. "He's always finding little extras, just for you."

For the first time since Heather had known Frankie, she saw Frankie blush. "It's payment for room and board," she replied with a smile and a shrug. "Sorry - nothing exciting there, I'm afraid."

"But you'd like something exciting to be there, wouldn't you?" Adrienne asked shrewdly.

Frankie laughed and shook her head. "Not right now," she replied, and steered the conversation back towards Heidi and Steph's relationships.

And so the evening progressed. Although Heather drank enough to relax, she didn't want to forget herself and inadvertently let Beck's identity slip out. She listened to the banter and the stories, but didn't participate much in the conversation. Just listening to the women around her soothed her soul, and distracted her from her thoughts about Beck and the story he had told her, and Heather basked in the sense of normalcy and acceptance that the situation evoked in her.

Much later, after the other women had left and Adrienne had drifted back to her bedroom, Frankie and Heather sat at the table, drinking one last beer in companionable silence before heading to bed as well.

After a few moments of silence, Frankie sighed and said, "What's going on, Heather? You've been...distracted ever since you guys went out of town." She tried to catch Heather's eye. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.

Heather avoided eye contact with Frankie, although she knew it was a lost cause. Frankie was nothing if not a master at getting people to share their secrets.

"You know resistance is futile," Frankie teased. "Beside, maybe I can help."

Heather blinked back a sudden rush of tears. She couldn't remember the last time she had heard a woman say that to her. Beck never _asked_ if he could help; he just did it, and while she...liked him for it, she still had a fundamental need for female companionship and friendship and support.

"You may as well tell me," Frankie urged.

Heather sighed. "It's...it's complicated."

"What _isn't_ , nowadays?" Frankie sighed. "Come on, tell me."

"He's done... _terrible_ things, Frankie," she whispered.

"Because he wanted to, or because he had to?" Frankie calmly asked.

Heather glared at her. "Because he had to!" she snapped, her tone defensive. "He _wouldn't_ \- he's _not_ \- " she trailed off, surprised at the vehemence of her tone.

Frankie smiled at her. "Sam, I think, can be a ruthless and cold man. He will do what needs to be done, use whatever means necessary to achieve his objectives. But that doesn't mean he's cruel, or evil, or a monster."

"I never thought he was!" Heather protested.

"Then what's the problem?" Frankie asked.

"How..." Heather bit her lip, her eyes wide and swimming in tears, "how do you ever...move on from those things? How can he - "

"Do you pity him? Think he's something broken that can never be fixed?"

"No!" Heather buried her face in her hands. "I can't - my heart breaks for him, but I don't pity him. I don't think he's broken, or evil or a monster. I don't...I don't know what I think."

"Then don't. Don't think about it. Just feel."

"And if I can't put a name to what I feel - then what?"

Frankie drained her beer and stood up. "Then let it take care of itself," she said and headed for bed, calling a quiet good-night as she headed down the hall.

Heather slowly finished her beer and then headed for her own bed. As she changed into the boxers and t-shirt she slept in, she remembered the last few hours, and she couldn't help smiling. She couldn't remember the last time she had sat with a bunch of women and just...talked. About men, and life, about the past - and the future. All the things women talked about when they were together and there were no men around. As she remembered her conversation with Frankie, she realized that she also couldn't remember the last time she had received advice from a woman.

Her last thought, though, as she snuggled under the covers to ward off the evening chill, was of Beck - alone in the tent outside the door.

Whether it was a result of the girl talk, or the fact that she was a normal, healthy female who had to name a year for the last time she had sex, for the first time since they started this trip, she dreamt of Beck.

She startled awake in the pre-dawn, the dream so vivid she could actually _feel_ the warmth of his hands, and the press of his lips against hers. She lay in bed, her eyes wide, her heart rapidly beating, her breathing shallow and quick. Her dreams about him in Jericho were never this vivid, but then again, he had never touched her in Jericho. She remembered the touch of his hands on her face after Vic had punched her; she remembered the feel of his arms around her as he hugged her to him, and the feel of his chest against her cheek. For a moment, she closed her eyes and savored the lingering effects of her dream before she resolutely opened her eyes and reminded herself that he was _Beck_ , and, as she kept saying the night before, it was _complicated_.

She sighed and glanced at the clock, and realized there was no point in trying to get back to sleep. She was wide awake and she may as well get up and put the coffee on for the others.

She puttered in the kitchen, in her boxers and t-shirt, her feet shoved into a pair of borrowed fuzzy slippers. She felt...surreal. Somehow out of step - outside-of-time. Frankie and Adrienne would be stirring soon, and the day's work would begin again, but right now...it was just Heather and everything else felt suspended.

Heather sipped her coffee, savouring it, wanting to make it last, as she wandered to the livingroom window and looked out over Antelope Wells, including Beck's tent in the front yard. As she stood there, she saw Beck come out of the tent in his jeans and t-shirt, slowly straighten and stretch.

Perhaps it was the remnants of her dream, perhaps it was the lingering effects of the previous night's girl talk or the conversation with Frankie, but for the first time in months, Heather just... _looked_ at him. She looked at him without the cloudy filter of all that had gone before and all she had learned, without the barrier of his uniform, or Jake, or any of the other things that always seemed to stand in the way.

She looked at him, and saw...just a man.

As she watched him stretching in the dusky half-light of the early morning, her coffee cooling, forgotten, in her hands, she allowed herself to see him through the eyes of the women from last night. She let herself see a good man who had done some very bad things for all the right reasons and felt herself softening towards him.

She half-smiled to herself as he finished stretching and stood, his hands on his hips, looking around as dawn began to break. She walked quickly to the door, and opened it.

"Hey," she said softly as he turned to look at her.

"Hey," he replied, nodding, his face wary, his eyes vulnerable.

"I've got coffee made," she said shyly, holding up her cup. "Would you like some?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then gave her a quirk of the lips. "Sure," he said, and followed her into the trailer.

*/*/*/*/*


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Gun violence and blood.

 */*/*/*/*

The next two days fell into an oddly familiar pattern, although neither Heather nor Beck could pinpoint why it felt familiar. It was also tentative, like testing the thickness of ice on a lake in winter.

Heather found herself waking early each morning, early enough to put the coffee on and to be at the door to invite Beck in when he awoke. It was late October now, and while the days in New Mexico were still pleasantly warm and sometimes hot, the nights were starting to cool down significantly. While her logical mind told her Beck was more than capable of looking after himself, and had survived much harsher conditions, Heather couldn't help worrying about him sleeping in the tent outside the trailer. That, and she didn't like the wariness and caution she saw in his eyes every time she opened the door and called to him.

He came in to the trailer each morning, used the bathroom, and then they spent the next half hour or so sitting alone together at Frankie's kitchen table, drinking their coffee, eating breakfast and talking quietly about what had happened the day before and what was planned for the day to come. They didn't speak of the past, or about Simone or Maggie or William - although they both knew that conversation still loomed. Instead, they spoke only of the day-to-day reality they faced at the moment.

Each day, Heather found herself easing towards him a bit more. It wasn't exactly forgiveness; it wasn't exactly acceptance - but perhaps it was the first steps towards both those destinations. And, taking Frankie's advice to heart, Heather tried not to overthink it, but instead tried to let it take care of itself.

As Heather awoke on the third day and began what had quickly become her routine, she was pleased that she and Beck seemed to be cautiously forming bonds of shared experiences; creating tentative strands of connection between them, as delicate as gossamer - and as easily blown off course.

For Beck's part, when he awoke on the third day he had no expectations. He didn't know why Heather had extended the olive branch, and he didn't ask. As friendly and welcoming as the people of Antelope Wells were, they were still far from home and in a potentially dangerous situation - not that he thought Heather was trying to manipulate him. Heather was basically a straight shooter, honest to her core. Whatever her reasons for extending the olive branch, she meant it sincerely.

He tried not to think about it too much, and tried not to have any expectations that the new day would be the same as the one before. As comfortable as he felt here in this fledgling town, he was anxious to receive news - one way or the other - about his family, so they could be on their way.

He didn't know if word had reached the ASA - or Ravenwood - that somebody, sent by Major Beck, was in New Mexico looking for Simone and Maggie. Several groups of refugees had arrived and left since he and Heather had arrived, not to mention Tomas was asking questions during his trip north. Word would leak out eventually - it was only a matter of time. And all Beck could do was hope that they would all - _all_ , damn it, Simone and Maggie and William too - be safely back in Jericho before the ASA came knocking at Antelope Wells' door.

As for Heather, he knew whatever friendship they forged during this trip wouldn't last once they returned to Jericho. Not that she would turn her back - not like she had before - but she would be expected to make a choice, and she would choose Jericho. Naturally. That was where her loyalty lay - and Jake's - and Jericho was her home, after all. Jericho would come first.

Beck understood and respected that. He himself had put duty and loyalty to his country before all else which was why he had been out of the country when the Attacks happened and put him in the situation in which he now found himself. It was that duty to the greater good that made him wonder how his family would react when they saw him.

Duty, he thought as he dressed. Honour. Love of country, love of woman, love of child. He served his country to protect his family, his woman, his child. But how do you explain that to an eleven-year-old - especially when you weren't there when they needed you the most?

He _still_ had a duty to the greater good - to Jericho, to do whatever he needed to do to protect the town and to be ready to support Texas when the war finally began, to resist the ASA in whatever small way he could until that time. But how would he explain that to his family, he wondered, and would they be able to accept it? Simone hadn't understood his commitment to his duty in safer times; how would she - and more importantly, Maggie - understand if he left them behind in Jericho when the war finally broke? How would he explain it to Maggie if he had to leave her again?

At night, as he tried to sleep, he wondered if Simone and Maggie hated him. He wondered if they'd be happy to see him. He wondered...he wondered many things, but most of all he wondered if he would find his family only to discover he had lost them anyway.

Beck finished dressing, left his tent and stretched the kinks out of his back in the half-dusk of dawn. As he stretched, Heather opened the door to the trailer and gave him a welcoming smile when he turned to look at her. She stood framed in the door, her hair still mussed from sleep, in her boxers and t-shirt and those silly fuzzy slippers she had borrowed. He paused for a moment, arrested by the sight, feeling a surge of bemused affection mixed with an unmistakable physical reaction. A reaction he hoped she wouldn't notice.

As he headed towards the trailer door, he dismissed his sexual awareness of her as a side effect of being a normal, healthy male who had to name a year when he remembered the last time he had sex.

He rationalized his emotional connection to her as a result of being without true friendship for so long - and because he just... _liked_ her. He liked her integrity, and her practical nature. He liked her innocence, her naivete and her loyalty, even when it drove him nuts. He liked her mechanical skills and the way she always looked for a way to fix...well, _everything_. He even liked the way she asked him the questions he didn't want to answer, or made him admit the truths he didn't want to face.

He _liked_ her, and he thought his family would like her, too.

He gave her his familiar quirk of a smile and brushed past her into the trailer with a soft "Good morning."

"Good morning," she replied, giving him a sweet smile. "Coffee's ready. Frankie's in the bathroom, and Adrienne's getting breakfast."

He paused, surprised. "Why are they up so early?"

"Tomas is due back today, apparently. When he arrives, Manny and Frankie will be able to finalize the building plan, so Frankie and Manny want to get an early start this morning."

"We should be able to start building tomorrow, _if_ Tomas makes it here today and _if_ he managed to get the lumber," Frankie yawned as she shuffled into the livingroom. "Bathroom's all yours, Sam. God, I hate mornings," she groaned as she continued into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Heather grinned at Beck, her face alight with laughter. Beck looked back, his eyes warm and amused, and for a moment, Heather found she couldn't look away. She realized she had stared a moment too long when he raised an eyebrow in question. She blushed slightly, then jerked her head towards the bathroom. "Better hurry, or there won't be any coffee left by the time you're done."

Beck glanced at Frankie's closed eyes and ecstatic expression as she took her first sip of coffee, and nodded. He headed off down the hall, shaking his head in amusement.

While Beck was showering, Heather joined Frankie and Adrienne in the kitchen. "What time does Tomas usually arrive?" Heather asked.

Frankie was slouched at the table, her head propped up on one hand, her eyes closed. "Any time, really," she replied, her voice slurred with sleep. "That's why I'm out of bed."

As she spoke, there was the sound of vehicles driving up to the trailer door. Frankie didn't even open her eyes. "That's probably them now," she muttered. "He's _insane_."

Heather laughed. "You're just saying that because you haven't finished your first cup of coffee."

"And I'm almost out of it," Frankie groaned. "I'm going to have to ask Tomas to see what he can do about replenishing my supply," she continued as there was a brief knock at the door and Tomas walked in.

"Coffee?" Tomas casually asked as he came into the kitchen and pulled up a chair.

"On the cupboard," Frankie replied, taking a sip from her cup without raising her head or opening her eyes.

"No - you want me to find you more coffee," Tomas clarified.

Frankie nodded. "Please. I'll do anything you want," she sighed.

" _Anything_?" he asked. "Isn't that what got you into trouble with Rick?"

Frankie's eyes flew wide open and she sat up straight, staring at him in shock.

Tomas stared back with a slightly bitter half-smile on his face.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was suddenly tense and explosive. Heather and Adrienne watched with wide eyes as Frankie looked stricken for a moment and then her face hardened.

"Your _point_?" Frankie snapped. She sounded so unlike her usual self that Beck paused on his way into the kitchen to assess the situation.

Tomas' eyes never left hers. "No point," he shrugged. "Just asking a question."

Frankie cocked her head to one side and considered him carefully. "For the record," she said slowly, "I always pay my debts. And no, that's not what got me into trouble with Rick - and it sure as hell wasn't over _coffee_. He changed the price after we had a deal, and there were certain prices we weren't prepared to pay. Ever. He wouldn't accept that. I take it you found him?"

Tomas nodded, seeming to notice the others in the room for the first time. "He's holed up in a little town a few hundred miles from here. He said to tell you he's healing nicely."

Frankie paled, then raised her cup to her lips with a hand that shook only slightly. "Glad to hear it," she said before taking a sip. "And _that_ , I think, explains _you_ ," she added as she carefully put the cup down and stared at him.

Beck moved until he was standing behind Frankie's chair, his arms folded over his chest. He turned what Heather privately called his "Major-Beck-is-Majorly-Pissed" look on Tomas. It was no less intimidating just because he wasn't wearing a uniform.

"I don't know what's going on here," Beck said, his voice coldly authoritative, "but it better not be any kind of threat to Frankie or the continued well-being of this town." The warning tone and the look in Beck's eyes sent a cold shiver down Heather's spine.

Tomas blinked at him. "No," he said after a pause. "No threat. We're just talking about a...mutual friend."

Beck cocked his head to one side and gave Tomas a skeptical look. He glanced at Frankie. "Yeah?" he said as Booker and Manny came into the trailer. "It doesn't look like Frankie wants to talk about this...mutual friend at the moment. I suggest you respect the lady's wishes - now, _and_ in the future."

Tomas coolly met Beck's eyes. "I'll remember that," he replied, his voice smooth and silky and just this side of insolent.

"Tomas!" Manny enthusiastically greeted, clapping a hand on Tomas' back, apparently oblivious to the atmosphere in the room. "Glad to see you back. What's the situation to the north? And did you bring the lumber?"

The talk shifted into more neutral channels and culminated in a plan to start building the next day. Tomas and his men would take over guard duty while the residents of Antelope Wells concentrated on building log cabins for the families. They would also be building three large buildings from the lumber Tomas had brought to be used as a school, a hospital and a barracks for newly arrived refugees. Everyone in town acknowledged, though, that the terms "cabin" and "building" really meant "shacks thrown together but better than tents". It wasn't going to be much when it was done, but it was a start. A start at building a real town, and a real life.

After breakfast, Booker and Beck took the logging crew out for one more day. When they returned that night and added the logs to the stockpile they had already accumulated, they found that all of the adults had been assigned to work groups, and building would start early in the morning.

The next week marched along in a haze of heat and hard work and Beck found himself almost relaxing as the days fell into a set routine. He shared his coffee and breakfast with Heather and the others in the mornings. In spite of the tension between Tomas and Frankie, Frankie's trailer was still the gathering place for all of them and they left together to begin the day's work.

Beck and Heather had been assigned to different work groups, so they didn't usually see each other again except from a distance until supper time, when they met again at Frankie's place. After supper, they would walk for half an hour, their only time alone, relaxing and chatting about their days before parting for the night. They had taken one evening to leave town and check in with Jericho, where they were relieved to hear that things were still under control, although there had been a hint of anxiety in Jake's voice when he asked when they would be returning. It made Heather wonder what he was hiding.

During the day, Beck worked with Booker, and the more time they spent together the more Beck's liking and respect for the young redhead grew. As they toiled in the heat each day, Booker shared more and more of his history with Beck, including the fact that Booker had been on his honeymoon when the Attacks happened, hiking in the mountains of New Mexico; he had lost his wife in Alburquerque.

Booker didn't ask Beck many questions, for which Beck was grateful. He couldn't share much with Booker as it was, since the fewer lies Beck had to tell, the better. When Booker mentioned one day that he was originally from California, Beck froze, hoping Booker wouldn't ask the questions Beck didn't want to answer.

But Booker only asked him if he had been to California. When Beck said yes, Booker worked in silence for long moments before finally saying, "I don't want to ask, do I?"

"No," Beck replied quietly, "no, you don't."

And, to Beck's relief, Booker let it drop.

Beck's family was never far from his thoughts but the worry about their location and situation faded into the background even if it never disappeared completely. It remained the dull ache that had been his constant companion since he learned of the Attacks and lost track of his family. The longer they waited in Antelope Wells for Gregory to return, the more impatient he became for news, for something, _anything_ , that would tell him what he needed to do next.

It had been eight days of intensive building, and Beck and Heather were taking their evening walk around the town, discussing the day and what was planned for the next day. A friendly competition had developed between the different work groups, so he and Heather were checking on the progress of their rivals. Nobody had come up with a prize yet, but everyone was determined to win, even if if was only only bragging rights.

As they strolled around the town site, stopping on occasion to chat with their fellow workers, he kept an eye on Heather out of the corner of his eye. The bruises on her face had faded to a mix of yellows and greens, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes off her animated face as she smiled and laughed with those they met, telling them that her group was going to beat all the others - especially _his_ group, she added and grinned at him over her shoulder.

He looked back, his own face amused, his eyes warm. She blinked, glanced away, then glanced back at him from the corner of her eye, her smile now slightly bashful, and very sweet as she ducked her head and turned back to the others. Beck blinked at her profile, taken aback by the sudden, violent and almost irresistible urge he felt to grab her, kiss her absolutely senseless, and then find the nearest private horizontal surface and keep her there for a week. And he knew _exactly_ what he would do - the pictures were so clear in his head that -

Oh, he thought. _Oh_. Oh, _shit_.

Which made the sudden sound of gunshots behind them all that more startling.

Beck reacted instinctively, bearing Heather to the ground, covering her even as he reached for his own weapon and tried to get his bearings on where the shots were coming from. He glanced down at her. "Stay here," he ordered. He glanced at the others they had been speaking with, all of whom were on the ground. "Stay here," he repeated. "If you have to move, keep low, and take shelter as soon as you can."

They nodded, their eyes huge as more shots rang out; Beck could tell that someone was returning fire, and with one last look at Heather, he rolled off her, got to his feet and took off at a crouched run towards the gun battle. As he glanced around the corner of one half-finished log cabin, he could see Booker and Tomas behind two other cabins, along with others from their crews, returning the fire of several men who were approaching the town from the east.

Even as he took position and returned fire, a distant part of his mind noted that nobody was asking the attackers to lay down their weapons and surrender peacefully. That same distant part wondered who was suicidal enough to actually attack the town when, from what he could tell, the numbers were so stacked against them.

As if to prove his thought, the gunfight was intense and brutal, but short. Beck ran quickly to join Booker and Tomas when it appeared that all the attackers had been killed or injured, and without thinking began snapping out commands.

"Tomas - take some men and check the bodies. Make sure they're dead. Booker, grab a couple of guys; we'll check the perimeter and conduct a building by building, tent by tent search - make sure nobody came in from a different direction."

With nods, the defenders split into different groups to complete their tasks. As Beck and Booker checked the perimeter, Beck caught the glint of the setting sun off the gun from behind the customs building. Even as he shouted at Booker and fired his gun, Beck knew he was a split second too late; knew that even though he had killed the shooter, Booker was falling, red blooming on his chest.

He scrambled to Booker, checking and then pressing his hands over the wound, shouting at the others to continue searching for more hostiles; yelling for Camilla once the others gave him the all clear; Booker's blood vivid and hot against his hands, even as he spoke calmly to the younger man, reassuring him that he would be all right, that they'd get him patched up, and he'd be as good as new.

Camilla and Manny nudged him aside, and Beck stood, his hands and clothes covered in blood, and he watched as Camilla and Manny worked on Booker, exchanged looks, then glanced south. He continued watching, only dimly aware that Heather was beside him, her hand on his arm, as Manny and Tomas loaded Booker into Tomas' car, and headed towards Mexico.

When the car was out of sight, Beck took a deep breath, and looked at Heather. She stared at him, her eyes wide, her fading bruises stark against her white skin. He reached to touch her, then realized his hands were covered in blood. He shook his head, then met her gaze, his own eyes wide and stunned and wounded. He settled for slowly, gently touching his forehead to hers, before whispering, "There's work to be done."

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes against the tears. "I know," she replied softly, then reluctantly stood back, breaking contact with him.

He glanced down. His shirt and jeans were covered in Booker's blood. He stared at himself for a moment, then absently wiped his hands on a dry piece of his jeans, grabbed his weapon, and headed towards the people who were dealing with the dead east of town.

Many hours later, he sat in the dark, on a log in town square, staring at nothing, barely even noticing the burn as he raised the glass in his hand, and swallowed the scotch.

He knew she was there before she spoke. He must have heard her coming, he thought, although he hadn't really registered anything outside his own head for the last half hour at least.

She silently settled herself beside him, and waited. After long moments, Beck asked, "Any news?" Manny, Tomas and Camilla had returned a short while ago, and were holed up in Frankie's trailer.

"They think he'll make it," Heather replied quietly. She mirrored his stance by leaning forward, her elbows on her knees, her fingers lightly clasped in front of her as she stared at the unlit firepit in front of them.

Beck let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "Good," he said, his voice not betraying any emotion. Heather glanced at him.

"Why has this bothered you so much?" she asked quietly.

He was silent for so long, she wasn't sure he would answer her. Finally, his voice low and rough, "It was the first time I wasn't behind a uniform."

They sat in silence. When he finished his drink, Heather gently took his hand and led him safely home through the darkness.  
  
*/*/*/*/*


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Bad language and mature, possibly embarrassing, subject matter.  {cue evil laughter}

 */*/*/*/*

The next day, the atmosphere in Antelope Wells was subdued, the residents still stunned by the previous day's events. The general pall only lifted during the town meeting in the evening. During the meeting - which quickly degenerated into a shouting match between Tomas and Frankie over the failure of the security detail then escalated to Frankie punching Tomas and the two of them being separated by Manny and Beck - the main questions circled around the identity of the dead men, and why they had come.

The attackers hadn't been anyone they recognized, and the only conclusion seemed to be that they had intended to scout the town from a distance and then wait until dark before raiding it for supplies. If they hadn't been spotted by one of Booker's men, they probably would have succeeded. Beck privately assured Heather earlier that he knew the dead men hadn't been members of Ravenwood or the ASA army, since they would have then simply marched into town. He _didn't_ tell her that he wondered if the men had come because they had heard rumours about emissaries from Major Beck at Antelope Wells.

Even without Frankie's assault on Tomas - which was the talk of the town for days - the meeting was contentious. Tomas and his men were their temporary security force and the residents of the town wanted an explanation for how the attackers got so close without being seen. Everyone was angry and afraid, wondering where the strangers had come from and worried there may be another attack.

And everyone liked Booker. The fact that he had been injured during the attack disturbed them all. The news that he had survived, and would be back in a few days was a relief but left everyone unsettled.

Manny reassigned some of the workers from the building detail to the security detail, and using every ounce of diplomacy and charm at his disposal, he soothed the townspeople into some semblance of calm. He even got Frankie to apologize to Tomas, and had them shake hands and make peace. Of a sort.

Then he dismissed everyone, and reminded them that they would be building again in the morning.

Beck and Heather, along with Frankie and Adrienne, walked slowly back to Frankie's trailer. Heather had insisted that he sleep on the couch the previous night, and she was now trying to persuade him to move into the trailer instead of staying in the tent. To be honest, he wasn't putting up much of a battle and when Frankie and Adrienne both added their support, he gracefully surrendered to the inevitable.

The next few days settled back into the pattern that had been established before the attack, only with Beck now living in the trailer with the women. He took some good-natured ribbing from the other men, particularly Manny.

He didn't tell anybody - who _could_ he tell? - that it was pure hell knowing that Heather was sleeping down the hall with just one, thin door between them. Especially now that he had finally admitted to himself he wanted more from her than just her friendship. He found himself even more fascinated by her eyes and that tantalizing full bottom lip he could watch all day. He could almost feel his hands in her hair, holding her steady as he kissed her. He had always loved to kiss, but he hadn't realized how much he missed it until he had to look at Heather every day and stop himself from kissing her. Especially in the morning when her hair was mussed and she looked soft and warm and still glazed from sleep, in that t-shirt and boxers, showing off those gorgeous legs that he so wanted to feel wrapped around him as he -

He groaned quietly in the dark as he lay on the couch, banishing the images with sheer will power, throbbing painfully with need. _Here_ was not the place, he thought, although he supposed he could make use of the bathroom if he had to, once he was sure everyone was asleep.

What made it worse, he thought as he stared up at the ceiling, gritting his teeth, was the knowledge that, while he might have been out of the dating game for a long time, he could tell when a woman was attracted to him. He was almost sure Heather wouldn't turn him away if he went to her. And each night that he lay in the dark and thought of her undressing, getting ready for bed, so close to him, his reasons for _not_ going down that hallway and through that door faded a little bit more.

But he did have his reasons, and they were important reasons, he grimly reminded himself.

For instance, there was the fact that Heather was attracted to him against her better judgment. While seduction had its charms, it was only charming to a certain point and then it just became... _wrong_ and ultimately hurtful. He didn't want her to have any reservations or regrets about being with him.

Then there was the fact that she was still in love with Jake. He couldn't do much about that - he couldn't make her fall out of love. While he could very likely convince her to sleep with him, he certainly didn't want the ghost of Jake hovering in the background. And when they got back to Jericho, Jake would be right there, and he couldn't - wouldn't - compete with the town hero even if the town hero was currently with another woman.

Jericho. That was another reason, he thought as the tension in his body finally began to ease. He knew whatever they started here would have to end when they returned to Jericho - even if all they forged was a friendship. He was still Jericho's pariah - that hadn't changed - and Jericho was Heather's home and first loyalty. Besides Jake, of course.  
  
Beck also didn't know what the future held; he didn't know how much his family would need him. He would do whatever he had to do to help them, to be there for them...at least until the war started. And once the war started, well, he didn't know whether he would be able to stay in Jericho, or whether he would have to leave Heather - and his family - behind while he went to more distant battlefields. It was his job, his calling and probably inevitable - but it didn't make the prospect any more appealing. Regardless of their relationship - or lack thereof - back in Jericho, Beck wanted Heather to be safe, wanted to protect her, and knew he likely wouldn't be able to do it.

Then there were all the things he had done during his first weeks and months back in the country, and his thoughts and feelings about them that bore him down. There were the things he had told her about - and the things he _hadn't_ told her about. Things like the fear they had had of finding their own loved ones sick and dying of radiation poisoning. Of being forced to put bullets into people they knew, they loved. Of dark nights spent under siege in all-American towns and being afraid that this time, they wouldn't live to see the dawn.

It had been one such night in some nameless town in Utah, waiting to see if he and his men would survive the night, that he had finally admitted to himself that Simone had been right to leave him.  In retrospect, he was amazed they had lasted as long as they did. Simone had never been all that sexual with him although that didn't mean she didn't love him or didn't enjoy sex while it was happening. But his less than refined approach to lovemaking at the beginning of their relationship made her flinch. And so, as the years progressed, he learned to control himself and to always make love to Simone gently, romantically, sweetly - to be honest, it was almost coma-inducing.  He finally accepted the fact that sometimes he needed something different. They had both probably needed something different, both emotionally and physically, for a long time before she left him for William. 

As he stood watch that night months ago, thinking about his wife, his nerves taut, trying not to shoot at shadows and make a bad situation worse, he finally admitted to himself that sometimes what he wanted - what he _needed_ \- was to fuck someone as hard as possible, until they both went out of their minds, and neither of them could think, could remember, until there was nothing left other than their bodies and the pleasure they gave each other.

And there, he thought with an inward sigh as he stared at the ceiling, was the real reason why he wasn't knocking at Heather's door right now. He didn't want to use her, and he didn't want to scare her. With the way he felt right now with his desire and need clouding his thoughts and judgment, he honestly couldn't be sure that he wasn't misreading the level of her attraction to him. He also didn't know if he could control himself with her; if he could control his desire for her - his need for oblivion. He was no longer a gentle man, a kind man - and the hot lust he felt when he looked at Heather could be called many things but "sweet" and "romantic" weren't two of them.

Above all, he liked her too much to do anything that could hurt her.

She mattered too much.  
  
So he stayed on the couch.

So far.

At least he had his fantasies and his dreams, he thought ruefully. With a sigh, he shifted to a more comfortable position on the couch and waited for sleep.

*/*/*/*/*

Heather jerked awake, her heart pounding and her breathing rapid. She groaned, rubbing her face. Since Beck had moved back into the trailer, she'd been dreaming about him every night - as opposed to every other night, she thought wryly, like she'd been doing since she offered him coffee. The fact that she was dreaming about him wasn't so bad. It was what he _did_ to her in her dreams that was the problem. This one had been particularly vivid - and vividly erotic.

She sighed and threw off the thin blanket. She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling and then sighed again and got out of bed. She walked to the window, trying to calm her breathing and her rapid heartbeat.

The dreams were not only more frequent, she acknowledged, not only more vivid but also more...she struggled for a moment... _adventurous_. She blushed at the memory of this latest one. She was a relatively sheltered girl from small-town Kansas, for heaven's sake - she hadn't realized she even knew that position was _possible_.  Although it was certainly intriguing...

She leaned her heated forehead against the cool glass and sighed.

"No more denial, Heather my girl," she whispered and then chuckled. Wasn't talking to yourself the first sign of insanity? "No - replying is," she murmured and chuckled again.

Face it, she thought resignedly. She was bonkers about him. Head over heels. Totally twitterpated. Definitely discombobulated.

And he hadn't even kissed her.

Yet.

She closed her eyes. They were on a collision course, she acknowledged. Had been probably from the moment he sat down at her table in Bailey's.

She wasn't an idiot; she may not have a lot of romantic experience, but she could tell when a man was attracted to her. Sometimes, when Beck let his guard down, his eyes _burned_ her and she knew this hot lust wasn't one-sided, and she ended up dreaming about activities - and positions - that made her blush, and left her aching with frustrated longing.

It was enough to drive a girl out of her mind.

The worst of it was that he knew it, too.   She could see it in his eyes.

Damn him.

And he was sleeping on the couch, with only a hallway and one thin door between them.

She pressed her heated forehead even harder against the glass of the window.

And he was still in love with Simone. That was the one fact that kept her in her room instead of going to him. It was also why she hadn't made an effort to speak to him yet about the divorce or William. She didn't want to hear him confirm what she already knew.

She had to appreciate the irony, though, of falling in love with yet another man who was taken by a woman from his past. What were the odds, she wondered. Not that it mattered - she couldn't compete against the ghosts, she thought sadly, and she didn't know if Beck could ever be with her while he was still in love with Simone. She didn't know if she'd _want_ to be with him while he was still in love with Simone. She also didn't know what the future held once they found everybody. What if William was dead? What then?

She sighed, shaking off her thoughts and turned back to the bed. At least the dreams were...pleasant, she thought ruefully. Although _pleasurable_ would be more accurate.  
  
And they were all she had.

So far.

Heather got back under the covers, resolutely closed her eyes and waited for sleep.

*/*/*/*/*


	15. Chapter 15

*/*/*/*/*

A week after he was shot, Booker returned to Antelope Wells to a muted hero's welcome. He blushed deeply as he got out of Tomas' car and made his slow and painful way to Manny's trailer where he was to stay until he was fully recovered.

"Your timing is perfect," Manny said, his voice carrying across the crowd as he helped him towards his trailer. "Camilla has only _just_ moved in with me. Now we'll have to behave ourselves while you're staying with us. Sadly, Frankie's place is bulging at the seams, otherwise trust me - you'd be there," Manny added.

The listeners laughed and applauded as Booker chuckled, shrugged ruefully then winced in pain. The crowd didn't disperse until the door had closed behind them. Beck followed them into Manny's trailer and once they had Booker settled in one of the spare bedrooms, Beck stayed to speak to him.

Beck watched carefully as Booker leaned back, his face ashen, grimacing in discomfort. Booker quickly gave Beck a small grin when he noticed his concern. "I'm gonna be okay," he assured him.

Beck nodded. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied.

"I don't know how to thank you," Booker said earnestly. "If you hadn't been there to shoot that guy and slow the bleeding..."

"It was nothing," Beck replied uncomfortably, glancing away. If he had been faster, he thought, then Booker wouldn't have been hurt at all.

"Hey, saving my life isn't "nothing" to me!" Booker joked, then sobered. "Seriously, Sam. I owe you one. Probably more than one. Anything. Anytime. Anywhere." He gestured ruefully. "Well, once I'm healed, of course."

Beck quirked his lips. "Thanks, Booker. I'll remember that."

Booker paused. "I know you're going to be leaving once Gregory gets back and you have a lead on where to find the Becks. But I for one would like you to come back once your mission is done." He held out his hand to Beck. "As far as I'm concerned, you'll always have a home here."

Beck stared at him, stunned. He slowly reached out and grasped Booker's hand. "Thank you," he said. He couldn't think of anything else to say.

Booker gave him a tired grin. "Now, tell me everything I've missed since I was gone. I hear Frankie punched out Tomas?"

Beck chuffed out a laugh and settled in to bring Booker up to speed.

The next day, Beck and Heather drove out of town to check in with Jericho. While things were pretty much status quo, Constantino was getting more and more bold. Whether it was because he knew Beck was gone or whether it was simply because it was part of his overall strategy was unclear. Heather told Jake that the person they were waiting for was due back at any time, and they would be heading back to Jericho as soon as possible.

Beck and Heather discussed the situation on the drive back, and Beck finally shook his head. "We can't wait much longer," he said grimly. "Clark and the others can handle Constantino - I'm not worried about that. But the longer I'm gone, the more likely it is that word will somehow leak out to the ASA - if it hasn't already."

"If it's already leaked out, why haven't they attacked Jericho?"

Beck shook his head. "Why did they agree to the truce and the conditions of it in the first place? They're not ready for a war. And neither is Texas. They may be willing to ignore this breach of the agreement until they _are_ ready. They may not." He slammed his hand against the dashboard in frustration. "If Gregory isn't back within the next week, we'll have to head back."

Heather was silent for a long moment before slowly saying, "I could stay. Wait for Gregory. We could ask Tomas and his men to escort us to Kansas once I've found Simone and the others."

Beck was shaking his head even before she stopped talking. "No."

"Why not? It's the perfect solution!"

" _No_ \- and that's final!"

"You can't still be worried about the people in Antelope Wells!"

"It's not _them_ I'm worried about," Beck snapped. "Sooner or later, J &R will see that list of names and send the army or Ravenwood to check it out. What if you're still here when that happens and they find out who you are and where you're from and what - " He stopped abruptly. "Besides," he continued in a rush, "I can't expect the people of this town to lie to the ASA about my family and their location. They've already done too much - they can't do any more without risking retaliation. And while I think you're safe enough in Antelope Wells, you may not be as safe wherever Simone and the others have ended up."

"Maybe you should have given me that self-defense training you promised, huh? Or taken the time to teach me to shoot?" She gave him a small smile.

Beck chuffed a laugh. "Maybe." He shook his head. "I still wouldn't leave you behind." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Jake would shoot me on sight if I returned without you."

"Not if we warned him," she replied absently. "Beck, are you and Simone divorced?" she asked abruptly.

Beck blinked at her, startled by the sudden change in topic. "I - I, uh, I assume so," he replied.

"You don't _know_?" Heather asked incredulously.

"I signed the papers the night before I deployed to Iraq," Beck explained. "I assume they got filed. Simone was certainly anxious for the divorce to go through."

"Because of William?"

"They wanted to get married." There was only a hint of bitterness in his tone. "I was in Iraq for six months before the Attacks; I can't imagine the divorce was held up that long. I would have received word somehow, I'm sure, even in the back of beyond where I was located at the time."

Heather hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "Why didn't you tell me about the divorce and about William earlier?"

Beck sighed wearily. "Because it wasn't really your business," he replied quietly and she flinched. "And because...because it's just not important. Whether we're still legally married or not, she's a great person, she was my wife for a long time, and she's the mother of my child. Feelings don't just go away with the stroke of a pen - not even when there's another person in the picture."

Heather nodded slowly, and wished she hadn't asked.

When they awoke the next morning, they discovered that Gregory had returned the night before and was waiting for them at Manny's place. Beck and Heather, Frankie and Adrienne headed to Manny's for breakfast and to meet with Gregory. They arrived to find that Tomas was there as well.

After four weeks away, Gregory truly did look like a stereotypical mountain man, but he was again surprisingly young. He was also soft-spoken and obviously well-educated.

Beck's eyes betrayed his eagerness for information as they listened to Gregory.

"Yeah," Gregory said, thoughtfully eating his breakfast and taking an appreciative sip of his coffee, "I know where Simone, Maggie and William are. They're holed up with about forty, fifty others in some cave dwellings about 300 miles north of here. They're off the beaten track, and the cave dwellinjgs don't show up on most maps. Not as extensive as the ones in Gila, but they do the job, apparently."

He carefully assessed Beck and Heather as he chewed another bite of breakfast. "It's a rough road - a track, really, for twenty or so miles, and then a hike of about two or three miles over pretty rough terrain."

"Were you there recently?" Heather asked, hoping he could give them good news.

Gregory shook his head. "I was in a totally different area this trip," he replied.

"Can you take us there?" Beck asked, his eyes burning with excitement and hope.

Gregory shrugged and nodded. "Sure. When do you want to leave?"

"As soon as you're ready," Beck replied, biting back the urge to order him to leave _now_.

"We'll leave tomorrow," Gregory said calmly. "That'll give you time gather supplies. I'll take you there, but I won't stay long. I have obligations here."

Beck nodded. "I understand," he replied. He glanced at Heather. "We'll be ready to leave tomorrow morning. Early."

Beck and Heather spent the day packing their few belongings and checking the car to make sure it was ready for the trip to the caves and the subsequent trip back to Jericho. They then sat with Tomas, who suggested a route out of New Mexico and back to Kansas that not only avoided the majority of towns, but also took them through a trading post where they'd be able to get gas and other supplies if needed. Frankie had given them back most of the salt they had brought with them and was now in the process of getting enough food together to keep them going for at least two weeks.

It didn't take long to get ready to leave. They spent the afternoon building before heading back to Frankie's place, to find that she had lit a fire in the firepit and was in the process of putting together a farewell feast.

"What are you doing?" Heather protested. "You don't need to do this, Frankie!"

Frankie didn't look at her as she busied herself at the kitchen counter. "You won't be coming back, will you?" Frankie said bluntly. It wasn't really a question, but Heather answered anyway.

"No."

"Then you need to let us say good-bye to you."

"Frankie - " Heather said helplessly, tears pricking at her eyes.

"It's okay," Frankie said briskly, giving her a quick glance and a small smile. "We knew you'd be leaving eventually. But we owe you - we owe both of you - and this is just a small way to show that you and Sam are always welcome here. Anytime you want to come back, there'll be a place for you."

Heather sniffed loudly. "Thank you," she choked out.

"Now, scoot out of here," Frankie said firmly, blinking back her own tears. "Go for your walk with Sam. By the time you're back, the food will be ready. We'll be eating in the town square tonight."

When Beck and Heather returned from their walk, which was a little longer than usual due to the number of people wishing them luck on their journey in the morning, Manny asked to speak privately with Beck. They went to Manny's office at the customs building.

"I just wanted to tell you that you've been a real asset to this community, Sam," Manny smiled, clapping a hand on Beck's shoulder as he motioned him into a chair.

Beck quirked his lips. "Thanks, Manny," he replied.

"And that Heather of yours," Manny added, "she's been just as valuable to us. A sweet, hardworking woman with a lot of valuable skills."

Beck wondered where Manny was going with this. "Thank you," he said again, a faint question in his tone.

"I wanted to speak with you privately, Sam, so we can speak freely." Manny hesitated for a moment and then continued. "I know you have a mission to complete, and other responsibilities back where you come from, but if you'd ever like to return someday, we'd be happy to give you a home here."

Beck stared at Manny's broad, honest face. First Booker, now Manny. It had been so long since someone had actually wanted him - of course, he reminded himself sharply, they wanted _Sam_ , not Major Edward Beck. At the end of the day, he wasn't who they thought he was.

"I...we'll keep that in mind," Beck carefully replied.

"If... _when_ you find Simone and the others, I hope you'll at least think about coming back here."

Beck hesitated. "I would be honoured to come back," he said honestly, "but there's war coming. And you're right - my responsibility - my duty - lies elsewhere and the longer I'm here, the more dangerous it is for you. It'll be dangerous enough when the ASA learns about Simone and Maggie - "

"The ASA and that damned Ravenwood are the least of our worries," Manny responded with a shrug and a half-smile, "or have you forgotten that we have enemies that are strictly our own?"

"No, I haven't forgotten," Beck replied solemnly, the memory of Booker's blood on his hands still vivid. "But if the ASA finds out that you knew about Major Beck, and how Simone and Maggie are related to him, and you never told them that Heather and I were here...it could go very, very badly for you."

"Don't worry about that. It's been a brutal year, Sam - you know that better than most of us. We've learned from it, though. You know we're not as helpless as we appear, and we protect our own." There was a glimmer of steel in Manny's warm brown eyes, his easy-going expression hardening for a moment into something entirely different. Beck's respect and liking for the man went up another notch. "We'd be - we _are_ willing to protect you and those close to you - the way you've been willing to protect us."

"We can't return, Manny. There are things you don't know and even if you did, you don't understand the implications."

Manny leaned over his desk, lowering his voice. "I know who you are, Major Beck. I've known from the very first day."

Beck stared at him, shocked and horrified. "No," he denied.

"Maggie had pictures, Sam. She knew you'd come for her."

Beck's face tightened. " _No_ ," he repeated. "I mean you _can't_ know who I am. There are bigger things - "

Manny shrugged. "If keeping your presence here a secret is a requirement to address these "bigger things", don't worry," Manny winked. " _You_ were never here."

"Does everybody know?" Beck demanded grimly, controlling himself with an effort.

Manny shook his head. "Just me and Frankie. We'll tell Booker, Camilla and Tomas when you've gone. I wanted to tell you that we know who you are, and that you'll always be welcome here - you and anyone close to you. Anytime. We owe you. More than that, you're as much a member of this community as any of us." Manny came out from behind his desk and held out his hand. "You're leaving tomorrow and I just wanted to assure you that you don't need to worry about us. _We_ protect our _own_."

Beck slowly reached out and shook Manny's hand. He was still shell-shocked when they returned to the town square. When Heather came up and asked him if everything was okay, he could only nod and say he would tell her everything later.

It became an evening out of time. As people drifted in to grab some food and to say good-bye, the evening took on a festive air as everyone ate, talked and laughed. For a few suspended hours, it felt like it had before the Attacks, as though they were just camping with friends, and everything would be normal in the morning.

Heather and Beck ate supper together, sitting on benches that had been built for just such an occasion, surrounded by the friends they had made in Antelope Wells during their month there. Heather watched him, fascinated by his ease with the people around him and the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.

Beck for his part thought Heather looked beautiful and in her element, talking and laughing and constantly surrounded by people. Being appreciated in a way he didn't think she truly was in Jericho. As he watched her, he thought about Manny's offer, and wished for a moment that they _could_ stay here. That he could ride out the coming war with the people around him and especially with the woman beside him.

But he couldn't stay here. He was Major Edward Beck, and he had a responsibility, a duty and a loyalty to the troops and the town he had left behind. More than that - he had tied his fate, and the fate of his troops, to the fate of Jericho, and he couldn't - he wouldn't - turn his back on that. He gave a quirk of his lips as he realized that all the time he had spent wondering when and where he would find his own home, he had already made his choice - whether that home wanted him or not.

But what about this town, he wondered. What could he do to protect _these_ people?

The next morning was both somber and exciting as Beck and Heather ate breakfast for the last time with their core group of friends - Frankie and Adrienne, Manny and Camilla, Tomas and Booker. Heather hugged them all one last time and then headed towards the car, blinking back tears as she got into the driver's seat.

Beck followed suit, hugging and shaking hands and saying good-bye to the people he now called friends. He left Booker until last, and they spoke for a few minutes before he shook hands again, hugged Booker and turned away.

"Sam," Frankie called as he reached the car. She ran up to him with something in her hand. "Here."

She handed him a picture, and his breath caught when he looked at it. His own face stared back at him. He was standing behind Simone and Maggie, his arms around them both, all of them grinning widely at the camera.

"My God," he breathed.

"Maggie left that with me," Frankie said quietly, her eyes swimming with tears. "To give to you, when you got here."

Beck tore his eyes away from the picture, and stared at her.

"She knew you'd come looking for her. She wanted us to know you when you arrived."

Beck blinked back the tears that filled his eyes. "I'll..." he cleared his throat. "I'll make sure to give it back to her when I find her. So she'll know you kept your promise."

Frankie blinked back her own tears and nodded. "Good luck," she said. "Tell her I said hi, and that I think she has a great dad," her voice broke.

Beck pulled her into a bear hug. "Thank you," he breathed. "For everything."

Frankie hugged him tightly, sniffing back her tears. "You're welcome. And thank you for all that you did while you were here. Be careful. Find her. Find _them_. Keep them all safe."

Beck pulled away, his hands on her shoulders. "Listen to me, Frankie. If you - or anyone here - ever need help, or you ever need a home - we're in Jericho, Kansas."

Frankie gave him a watery smile. "I'll remember that. Now, go. You've got a family to find."

Beck hugged her again then got into the car.

Neither Beck nor Heather looked back.

\----------------------------------------------------------

A/N:  Holy crap - it took way longer to get them out of Antelope Wells than I had anticipated!!  LOL.


	16. Chapter 16

 */*/*/*/*

They arrived at their destination in the early afternoon. They left the vehicles and followed a narrow animal path, carrying everything on their backs, although they took the time to stash most of the sacks of salts in a small niche before starting the hike to the caves. As they walked, Beck told Gregory Beck's true identity. Gregory nodded without much surprise.

They eventually came to the mouth of a long, narrow valley with a shallow river meandering through it. From the safety of the treeline, they stopped and surveyed the valley. They could see the cave dwellings in the cliff face to their right but there was no sign of movement.

Gregory frowned, looking around. "Something's wrong," he said quietly.

Beck and Heather looked at him sharply. "What do you mean?" Heather asked.

"I mean there're usually two sentries here, where the path comes out of the trees and you enter the valley. I mean you can usually see people bustling around. I mean you can usually see and hear children. I _mean_ , there's something wrong."

Beck frowned. "Heather, stay here," he said, gently pulling her deeper into the treeline. "Stay out of sight." He handed her the gun that Hawkins had given them when they left Jericho. "This is how you take off the safety," he showed her, his eyes intent on hers. She nodded, her eyes wide, her face pale. "Only use it as a distraction; don't expect to actually hit anything you're aiming at. Do your best not to hit me, or Gregory, okay?" He looked at her, his eyes rueful. "I've told you once before that if I go down, you _run_. I'm telling you that again."

"I won't leave you," she said simply.

Beck sighed, closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know." He glanced over at Gregory. "Ready?"

Gregory nodded grimly.

With one last glance at Heather, Beck moved out with Gregory. They walked towards the dwellings with their guns in their hands. No gunshots rang out, but no one answered their calls, either. Heather crouched low in the trees, and shivered as she listened to the echo of their voices.

Gregory spoke quietly to Beck as they approached the dwellings. "There are twenty cave dwellings, and about four large habitable caves located behind the outer dwellings. If they're in the caves, they may not hear us."

They climbed to the dwellings, and Gregory showed him the location of the entrance to the caves. They kept calling for James, the leader of the settlement, but there was no answer. They quickly worked their way through each dwelling and the caves until Beck finally stood at the opening of the last dwelling and looked out onto the empty valley. He looked towards the trees where Heather was waiting for them.

"Now what?" he muttered in frustration.

Gregory shook his head. "I don't know."

They climbed down from cliff and walked back to where Heather was waiting for them.

They stood in the shadow of the trees and discussed the situation.

"Could they be anywhere close by? Further up the valley? Or in a side canyon?" Beck asked.

"Possible," Gregory conceded. "There's a maze of small canyons off this valley, about a dozen in all, but only three with water holes. If they're still in the area, then they'd most likely be in one of those three, or they'll be camped in a canyon that's close to the river or a water hole."

Heather turned to Beck. "We need to search as many of the canyons as we can," she told him earnestly. "Maybe they left a message or a sign about what happened, where they've gone."

Beck breathed deeply, trying to control his frustration and anger. So close, he thought, cursing viciously but silently. He nodded curtly. "You're right. We'll search the area as much as we can." He looked over at Gregory. "Do you think it's safe enough for us to stay here?"

Gregory shrugged. "I don't know. Three months ago, this was the only settlement for miles and I can't imagine that's changed. It's so isolated, I would be greatly surprised if anyone stumbled on it by accident, although it's possible."

Beck shook his head, baffled. "If they left because somebody attacked them, we should find signs of a battle, and I can't see any."

Gregory nodded. "I can't imagine they would have gone quietly, unless they were completely outnumbered."

"How many people knew about this place?" Beck asked, picking up his pack and leading the way back to the dwellings.

"Hard to say. I knew, of course. I led the first group here, after all, and others since then."

"Is that how the Becks got here?" Heather asked curiously. "You brought them?"

He nodded. "I was on the road when they left Antelope Wells. I ran into them at one of the other settlements shortly after that. They weren't happy at that settlement, and they told me about their need to be somewhat hidden, but not totally inaccessible. I dropped them off here on my way back to Antelope Wells."

"Did they..." Heather hesitated, shooting a quick look at Beck. "Did they think about going to Kansas and looking for Beck?"

Gregory nodded. "We discussed it. But we didn't know where in Kansas you were located or even if you were still there. We also didn't know how safe it would be for them to start asking questions about you or to try and get a message to you. I think if it had been only Simone and William, they would have headed for Kansas and taken their chances. But - "

"They had to think of Maggie." Beck said grimly.

"Yes. It was dangerous enough to still be going by their real names."

Heather nodded, and sighed with relief as she set down her pack in one of the dwellings. She looked around with interest. It was surprisingly spacious, with a door opening and crudely rectangular openings used as windows and a ledge along one side of the room. There was a depression in the corner next to one of the windows that had been used as a firepit. There was a spit set up over the firepit with a pot still hanging on it. Heather frowned as she looked at it.

"They must have left in a hurry," she said thoughtfully. The men looked at her questioningly. She nodded at the spit. "They left some stuff behind that they would likely need wherever they end up."

The men looked at the spit. Beck swallowed hard as he thought about her words.

"If they left in a hurry," Gregory said, "then they were taken away by force, or they were running."

Beck nodded. "But when? And where did they go?"

Gregory shook his head. "I wish I knew, Major. All I know is they were here three months ago. What's happened since..." He shrugged helplessly.

Beck sighed. "Will you spend the night?" he asked.

"I'll stay and help," Gregory said.

"Thank you," Beck said softly.

Gregory sighed. "It's not much. I wish I had some idea where they might have gone, but - I just don't know. They would have fought to stay here; this was going to be their home. At least for awhile."

They spent the next few days thoroughly searching the dwellings and the caves as well as scouting out the valley and the canyons that had water holes. In the debris left behind in the dwellings, they found three shovels, two frying pans, a knife, a plate and two and a half pairs of shoes - further evidence that the residents had left quickly. On the other hand, Heather pointed out, it indicated that whatever had happened, the residents had had time to pack what personal belongings they still had because nothing personal at all was left behind.

They searched as much as they could each day. But they found nothing. There was no sign of other people. No smoke, no noise, no movement - nothing. They decided to expand their search to the canyons that were closest to the river or the water holes.

Beck and Heather found the graveyard on the fourth day. In a small side canyon branching off from a larger canyon, were a dozen wooden crosses with a name and a date crudely carved into each one, all telling a silent story of loss and grief and love.

Heather walked slowly between the crosses on one side while Beck explored the other side, feeling her heart clench and hoping that they would not find what they were looking for. Not _here_.

She glanced over and saw Beck standing frozen at a pair of crosses, and her heart sank to her toes. She walked over and silently stood beside him. The name Simone Beck leapt out at her, the sun glinting off a silver locket draped around the cross. The grave next to Simone's bore the name William Wilder. The dates were the same - four weeks before.

"Beck - " Heather breathed, reaching out to him.

He shook his head sharply, slightly flinching away from her. He breathed deeply, absently rubbing his ring finger as he stared at the crosses. He slowly walked close then reached out and lifted the silver locket. He turned it over, read the inscription, and closed his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together.

Heather watched him, aching. She had been afraid of finding Simone, dreading what that meant for the future of Heather's relationship with Beck but this - _this_ was not what she wanted.

"I'll...leave you alone," Heather said softly, again reaching out to touch him but pulling back at the last moment. "I'm going to find Gregory...we'll...we'll meet you back at the camp site," she added gently.

Beck nodded, not looking at her. She backed away, and then left him. She glanced back once. Beck was on his knees in front of Simone's grave, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped.

If Heather had any defenses left against him, they crumbled like dust at the vulnerability in his posture. She turned and continued on her way, her eyes blurred with tears.

*/*/*/*/*


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rating:** R-NC17ish (depending on your level of tolerance)  
>  **Warnings:**   Errrmmm...not romantic.  Not sweet, either, with a touch of dub con.

 */*/*/*/*

It was dusk when Beck returned to the dwelling where they had set up camp. Heather anxiously watched him until he looked at her and gave her a small quirk of his lips. She relaxed slightly and returned his smile with a small one of her own.

Heather and Gregory watched him in silence as he ate. He paused, looked at them and said, "I'm fine."

Heather and Gregory exchanged rueful, embarrassed looks and laughed a little.

"Sorry," Heather said. "Even after everything that's happened after the Attacks, it's still hard to know how to react when somebody loses a loved one, what to say to help ease the pain."

Beck gazed at her steadily. "I hope that never changes," he said softly. "That we never lose that ability to feel another person's pain." He looked away quickly and transferred his attention to Gregory. "What do you think the chances are of finding anybody in the remaining canyons?"

"Remote. They'd have to spend all their time getting water."

"Any ideas _at all_ about where they might have gone?" Heather asked, the frustration clear in her voice.

Gregory sighed. "James picked this place because it was remote and isolated from the rest of the world. He'd found it years ago, and fell in love with it. After the Attacks, it was the first place he thought of - once he could think again, and once he understood the extent of the damage done to the country. James knows this country as well as I do; which way he would have gone depends on how and why they left, and whether he was alive in order to guide them. All I can do, Heather, is to promise to look for them when I'm on my circuit." He turned to Beck. "And I can promise that I will get Maggie to you in Kansas if I find her."

Beck nodded curtly. "That's all I ask," he replied.

"What are you going to do now?" Gregory asked.

Beck glanced at Heather. "I think we'll search for one more day, and then leave. Without a solid lead, there's nothing else we can do."

"I'll stay - "

"No." Beck said, giving Gregory a small smile. "No, you've done enough. You've been gone from Antelope Wells longer than expected - and you'd just gotten back. People will be worried. Do you have any family there?"

Gregory shook his head. "No, although there's a girl..." He looked uncomfortable.

Heather bit her lip as she tried not to smile.

"Then you should head out tomorrow morning. Heather and I will spend one more day and then head out ourselves. But you don't need to hang around."

Gregory argued half-heartedly before giving in.

Very early the next morning, they walked with Gregory to where the trail started in the tree line. He left them the leather gloves he had given them when they first started searching area. "You'll need them today," he shrugged. "Plus I can make more."

Heather suddenly felt very lonely and isolated when they shook Gregory's hand and watched him walk away. He was quickly lost to sight in the trees. Heather glanced at Beck, and he sighed and shook his head.

"Come on," she said with a small smile, "let's get going."

In the early morning, the canyon was still with only the sound of the wind and birds to break the silence. It was a ruggedly beautiful place and under different circumstances, Heather would have stopped to admire it. As Beck glanced around, he caught something flutter out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head sharply, searching for what had caught his attention.

When he saw the movement again, he touched Heather's shoulder and led the way towards it.

Beck's stomach sank as they got closer. He paused, and stopped Heather, turning to both look at her and to block her view. "You shouldn't go any further," he told her, his voice grim. "You should go back to camp and wait for me."

Heather stared at him, her eyes wide and frightened, but determined. "I'm going with you," she said.

He gave her an indecipherable look. "You shouldn't," he warned again.

Heather's gaze never wavered. "I know," she said, "but I'm going to, anyway."

With increasing trepidation, they walked closer. In spite of her best intentions, Heather gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth.

Beck's eyes and face became even more grim and cold with rage.

They were looking at roughly a dozen bodies - maybe more, maybe less. It was difficult to tell how many or how long they had been there - animals had done their bit along with the elements. The bodies were in a crumpled heap, tangled together, obviously left where they had fallen.

And they were all children.

In a detached part of her mind, Heather was amazed that there was so much left for them to find. She gasped for breath, trying to keep herself from crying, or passing out or puking or just screaming out her horror.

"I...I don't understand," Heather choked out. "How - "

"Shot," Beck bit out. "The bodies have been jumbled because of animals, but - they were lined up and shot."

Heather stared at him, her eyes wide and horrified.

"Who - why - ?"

Beck shook his head. "We'll probably never know." He looked back at her. "You really should go back," he said, his voice surprisingly kind, given the expression in his eyes.

Heather slowly shook her head, her gaze never leaving his. "You don't need to do this alone," she replied softly.

Beck's eyes were solemn as he looked at her. Then he gave a single curt nod. "Let's go get the shovels."

As they stood with the shovels in hand, Beck shook with horror and rage, clenching his hands into tight fists, fighting to control himself. With an effort, he relaxed, and pulled on his gloves. He started Heather digging a grave a little distance away, then he braced himself and took a deep breath. He had to know if his daughter was among the heartbreakingly small and pathetic bodies before him. He would have given anything not to get closer, to turn and run, to deny the possibility that his daughter could have been left to the mercies of the animals and the elements. To turn and pretend there was no way Maggie - sweet, laughing, loving Maggie, Maggie of the treehouses and afternoon teas and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, his child, his baby, his _heart_ \- could have ended here.

But if she _was_ here, then Beck needed to know. Either way, he also needed to show these poor children the respect they deserved.

Beck gently examined what was left of the bodies, carefully scrutinizing each one. Finally, he looked at Heather and shook his head. "I can't tell," he sighed wearily. "I don't think she's here, but..." he trailed off.

Heather nodded, biting her lip, both glad that he couldn't positively identify one of the children as Maggie, and also sad that he didn't have an answer one way or the other.

He moved to join her and help her dig.

It was late afternoon when they returned to their cave dwelling, without another word being spoken between them.

Heather could see the rage churning inside Beck, his fists clenching and unclenching, his eyes unseeing. She could tell that his control was tenuous at best over his emotions.

"Beck," Heather started, touching his arm.

"Don't," Beck grated, jerking away from her. "We buried children today, Heather. Children. We are a wounded nation, and they murdered CHILDREN!" With a guttural growl, he took the shovel he had used in the canyon and slammed it against the stone wall again and again until it shattered, the pieces flying in all directions, Heather ducking away from the debris. He spun around, searching for something else he could use to vent his rage, panting from his exertions.

Heather stood back and silently watched as he rampaged, throwing whatever he could lay his hands on, hammering away at the stone walls with whatever he could find. The shovels, the frying pans, the shoes. When he ran out of other things, he moved to punch the wall. Heather quickly jumped forward and grabbed his fist and arm.

Beck froze at the touch of her hand, jerking to stare at her, his breathing laboured and harsh in the silence of the dwelling. He was drowning in his rage and sorrow. He needed to get the emotions out - he wanted to rip everything he touched to pieces. He wanted to break something, destroy something, hurt something, while he screamed his rage and frustration and fear and pain at the heavens. But there was nothing he could destroy - nobody left to hurt.

Except Heather.

Beck spun away from her, from her touch, turning his back. His eyes darted furiously around the room, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he struggled for control. She had to leave - she had to get away from him. He'd never been this out of control, and he didn't know what he would do, or how far he would go to get some relief from his own demons. He flinched away from her hand on his back, and turned to confront her.

"If you know what's good for you," he rasped, his eyes burning, telegraphing his rage and despair and uncertainty, "you'll get out now."

Heather stared at him wordlessly, her eyes showing her own pain, and empathy for him.

"I'm not afraid of you," Heather replied softly. "You won't hurt me."

"No?" Beck asked, his voice dangerously low. That voice, that tone, that look touched something deep inside her that started to thrum like a guitar string. She was shaking, as her body reacted to him, dampness growing between her legs, her breathing quickening, her breasts tightening. She stared at him and knew - knew with every feminine instinct she had - that if he touched her now, there would be no turning back. For either of them.

"No," she replied, her own voice husky, shaking her head slowly.

Beck didn't bother to answer her; he closed the distance between them and slammed his mouth down on hers.

His hands were bruising, the kiss brutal. She could taste the coppery hint of blood where her teeth ground against her lips. Even as he punished her mouth with his own and pushed her down on the stone ledge, heavily covering her with his body, she wasn't afraid.

Beck ripped his lips from hers and placed his mouth – hot and wet and punishing - on her neck, and she shivered as he suckled hard on her sensitive skin. Each tug of his mouth and each stroke of his tongue sent electric shocks through her, pooling hotly between her legs.

Beck was lost in a haze of rage and pain and sexual arousal, the scent of her filling his nostrils. He wanted her so badly - wanted what she unconsciously promised - he felt like he was almost insane with his need.

She moaned, and then, with an effort of will, she panted, "Stop."

He froze.

"Beck, you have to stop."

He raised his mouth from Heather's neck, released her hands and abruptly levered himself away and off her.

He stared at her, appalled. He had been - he had been -

"My God," he whispered, backing away a step.

Heather quickly moved to stand in front of him. She smiled tremulously at him. "I told you you wouldn't hurt me," she said softly.  She steadily held his gaze as she pulled her shirt over her head.

Beck felt off-balance, drowning in rage and grief and fear and shaking from the urge to push Heather back down on the ledge and taking what he wanted - what he needed - whether she liked it or not. The part of him that was still sane was horrified at the thought, and the sight of Heather in her bra and jeans was not making sense to him. She couldn't be... _willing_...could she? Not after he had kissed her like that, forced her down. If she hadn't stopped him, he would have taken her without thought to her consent.

He stared at her, his breathing rapid, his eyes wild, and burning and uncertain. Heather moved closer to him. "Do you think you're the only one who needs to forget?" she asked softly, then took his hand, and placed it on her breast.

The feel of the soft mound, encased in the soft cotton of her bra, broke the last vestige of control Beck still had over himself. With a groan, he cupped the back of Heather's head and pulled her to him, his mouth slamming down on hers again. This kiss wasn't as brutal as the first one, and Heather kissed him back as hard as he was kissing her. Their tongues duelled, and when Heather slid her hands beneath his shirt and dug her nails into his back, Beck gasped against her mouth and deepened the kiss even more - which was something he wouldn't have thought was possible.

He broke the kiss, and looked down to where his hands were caressing her breasts through her bra. He bent down and traced with his tongue the place where her flesh and the bra met, pausing to suckle hard and nip at the sensitive flesh. Heather gasped sharply at the nips, and moaned at the barrier between her flesh and his. She wanted - _needed_ \- to have his hands on her bare breasts, to have his mouth on her nipples.

But she knew that this first coupling wasn't going to last long, and there wasn't going to be a great deal of foreplay - nor did she need it. Their control was gone, and their need was too great. This wasn't about lust, or pleasure, or even about anger. It was about oblivion from the horrors of the day, and they each wanted to lose themselves in the other, if only for a few moments. There was no gentleness on either side as she scratched at his back and suckled and nipped at his flesh in her turn.

She couldn't remember them removing the rest of their clothes or getting down on the sleeping bag. But she would remember forever the moment Beck moved to enter her. She was wet and ready, but tight, and for the first time in this encounter, Beck moved gently, pushing into her slowly, giving her time to adjust to him, his eyes burning into hers as he thrust into her. Heather sighed when Beck was buried to the hilt, and for a suspended moment she just savoured the feeling of completion. The moment didn't last long, and she gasped with pleasure as he began to move. They quickly found a rhythm, and now the gentleness was gone again as he drove into her. She dug her nails in his back, his ass, his thighs as she met his thrusts with her own, as wild and demanding as he was, her own need as strong as his. She screamed when she came, pulsating around him, and he groaned out her name when he shuddered over her moments later.

Beck didn't know how long they lay tangled together like puppies or how long they slept, but the sun was low in the sky when he opened his eyes.

With a stifled groan, he stood, his legs shaking slightly as he grabbed Heather's sleeping bag from the corner and brought it over to where she lay. As he unzipped it, he took the opportunity to truly look at her. They had come together so quickly and in such a haze of rage and despair and dark lust which had spun completely out of control. He hadn't really _looked_ at her.

Now he took the time. He didn't know if he would ever have another chance, once she awoke and she no longer had the desperate need for the oblivion using his body promised. Once she regained her sanity, he thought ruefully.

And so he looked at her, drinking her in, memorizing her. Her skin was paler than he expected, especially contrasted against her tanned arms, shoulders and legs. Her waist was tiny, her breasts, while not large, were beautifully shaped. He winced slightly at the marks he had left on her, on her arms and neck and on the tops of her breasts, where he had sucked the flesh above her bra-line. He wasn't sure he had ever lost control so completely before, and Heather's body bore the results.

Heather stirred, stretching slowly, and Beck's mouth went dry.

She opened and blinked sleepy blue eyes at him. "What?" she asked, her voice husky.

Beck shook his head. "Nothing," he said softly. "Go back to sleep." He gently laid the sleeping bag over her as she yawned, and he noted that her lips were swollen and red.

"Are you going to sleep again, too?" she asked.

Beck opened his mouth to say no. He needed to take some time away from her, to get his world facing the right way again, to regain control, to prepare himself for the moment she told him to never touch her again. But he couldn't refuse her. He couldn't look her in the eyes and tell her no. He also couldn't turn away from his own desire to hold her, to sleep with her close to his side, even if it was only until tomorrow. He quirked his lips in what passed for a smile.

"Yes," he said. "For a little while."

He slid under the sleeping bag and laid down beside her. With a sigh, Heather curled up against him, soft and warm and trusting, smelling like heat and sweat and sex, of her and of him, and he felt dizzy from the assault on his senses. He hadn't tasted her - it had been too intense, too fast, too... _everything_ to take the time for the finer things - but as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, he could feel her nails in his back, see her arching against him, hear her panting and her scream.

"Go back to sleep, Beck," Heather murmured sleepily. She lifted her head and met his gaze. "It'll be okay," she said and, to his surprise, kissed him gently.

He cupped the back of her head as she kissed him. He stroked his tongue over that full bottom lip he'd been watching with such fascination since he met her. She moaned deep in her throat as he explored her mouth with his tongue, and to his surprise, he could feel himself getting hard again, and he only got harder as Heather swept her hand down his body to firmly clasp his length. She moaned again as she explored him, and as his hands explored her in turn.

With an effort, Beck broke the kiss, which was rapidly getting hungrier and more out of control.

Heather stared at him, surprised.

"I just - " Beck panted, "I want to take my time," he said.

Heather smiled at him, a teasing, wholly feminine smile. "Take all the time you need," she said huskily, "but if _I_ can't wait - well..."

Beck stared at her. "Christ," he whispered, his tone both reverent and pleading.

Their mouths slammed together, and all thought of taking it slow disappeared. Instead, it was almost as frantic as the first time. When she mounted him, guiding him into her body and lowering herself onto him, he thought he would cry from the sheer pleasure of it and the sheer beauty of her as she rode him as hard as he had ridden her earlier. She held his hands above his head as they rocked against each other, kissing hungrily .

When she came, she came with her eyes open, her gaze holding his. She didn't scream, but the panting gasping of his name and the sight of her and feel of her made his world fly apart as well.

She collapsed on top of him, both of them panting heavily and slick with sweat. They were asleep in minutes.

When Heather awoke, she ached all over, while at the same time she felt completely relaxed and sated. It was dark, and she was alone on the sleeping bags. She slowly sat up, and saw Beck standing by the window, looking out into the darkness.

Heather stood, wincing as muscles she hadn't used in far too long protested any movement, and shivering slightly in the evening chill. She walked up to Beck and smoothed a hand up his back.

He turned his head slightly, but didn't turn, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Is there somebody out there?" Heather whispered.

Beck shook his head. "Just ghosts," he sighed, his voice quiet and sad.

Heather slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his back. "I don't believe she's dead, Beck. We'll find her yet," she whispered.

Beck rubbed Heather's arms without answering her. After a moment of silence, he turned to face her, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs rubbing lightly across her lips. She sighed at the sheer sensual pleasure of it.

"I'm glad you're here, Heather," he said softly.

She smiled a little. "Why would you tell me that?" she asked lightly.

"So you'd know that everything that's happened these last few hours was because it's _you_. My ghosts have nothing to do with this," he said, as he lowered his mouth to hers.

This kiss was different, gently questing and exploring, and left Heather trembling and clinging to him. When he lifted her into his arms, she squeaked in surprise. He carried her the short distance to the sleeping bags, and sank down onto them with her.

Afterwards, Heather swore he didn't miss a single inch of her. He stroked, or nibbled, kissed or licked her from her eyes to her toes, front and back. He brought her twice with his fingers and tongue before he finally entered her.

As he drove in and out of her, he spoke to her, whispering her name, telling her she was beautiful, telling her she was driving him crazy, telling her how she felt and how she made him feel. She came with a soft sigh, convulsing around him almost gently just before he came and collapsed on top of her.

After long moments trying to catch her breath, floating in a sensual sea of pleasure, she sighed with a small laugh, "This is _insane_."

He lifted his head and looked down at her in the darkness, frowning.

"I've never made love three times in one night before," she explained. "Are you always like this?"

"Well, don't get your hopes up," Beck said ruefully. "It's been awhile."

And he started to laugh. It was rusty, but it was a laugh, and Heather couldn't help laughing along with him once she got over her surprise.

In spite of the disappointments and the grief; in spite of the horror and the rage of the day, they held each other in the dark and laughed. They laughed until the laughter turned to tears, and neither of them could have said which one started crying first, only that they held each other even more tightly as they cried.

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	18. Chapter 18

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They had cleaned up, packed up and were hiking out of the valley as the sun rose. Neither of them wanted to spend any more time there than they had to, and there was nothing left for them to find anyway.

They drove steadily and mostly in companionable silence, following the route that Tomas had laid out for them. They stopped at the trading post he had told them about and traded salt for gas. They also spent some time gathering news and assessing the goods available for trade. When they were on the road again, Heather and Beck discussed the pros and cons of expanding Jericho's trading range. It would be a natural way to keep communications open with Antelope Wells and a good way to help support the people and the community that had embraced them so warmly.

They made the safe house where they had spent their first night on the road as the sun was setting. Beck searched the house to ensure it was secure before sending Heather in with their gear while he checked the rest of the area and moved the car into the garage.

She pounced on him the moment he walked in, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the bathroom, where she playfully pulled him into the shower with her and turned it on. As much as Beck enjoyed the first hot shower he'd had in a week, it paled in comparison to being stripped by a laughing Heather under the hot spray. Even the harsh soap felt wonderful when it was Heather briskly rubbing it over his body.

By the time he had her pressed against the shower wall, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist, he was willing to swear that this was best shower of his life and getting clean had never felt so good.

Afterwards, they puttered around the house, cooking supper and washing dishes while their wet clothes dried in front of the fireplace. They chatted lightly about everything except the place they had left behind that morning and the place they would reach tomorrow.

Beck lay awake, thinking, for a long time after Heather fell asleep, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her arm flung across his chest and her legs tangled with his.

He hoped his clothes would be dry enough to wear by morning. His only other pair of jeans were the ones he had worn when Booker was shot, and he didn't want to be wearing blood-stained clothes when they returned to Jericho. He'd already be answering to a lot of people about the hickeys on Heather's neck; trying to explain blood stains would just make it that much worse.

Beck hoped he wouldn't be in the room when Jake saw Heather for the first time. He didn't really want to see Heather's reaction to Jake, but he also had a shrewd guess that Jake would go ballistic when he got a good look at her, and while Beck was almost sure she wanted to continue this sexual relationship once they returned to town, he was absolutely positive that beating the shit out of Jake on their first day back would put a damper on things.

He hadn't realized how much of a coward he really was in some instances until this evening. He found, to his surprise, that he simply couldn't bring himself to talk to her about the next day. They both knew that nothing had changed about his relationship with the town, and in spite of the last six weeks - and in spite of the mind-blowing sex of the last two days - nothing else had really changed either. Her first loyalty was to Jericho. She was probably still in love with Jake. For all Beck knew, this was the post-Attack equivalent of a holiday fling and would end the moment she saw Jake again - although he admitted that that was rather unlikely.

But if this lasted longer than the next five minutes, sooner or later there would be conflict between him and the town - between him and Jake - and she would be expected to make a choice. If she was to continue living in Jericho, then her choice had to be a foregone conclusion.

He would enjoy what time he had with her, he decided, even as his arms tightened around her for a moment. With a deep breath, he loosened his hold, knowing that as much as he may want to, he couldn't force her to stay with him. He'd learned _that_ with Simone, just like he'd learned from Simone that if you loved someone, sometimes you had to set them free.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes, breathed in Heather's scent, and fell asleep.

The taste of his uncertainty lingered in his mouth long after they made love in the morning and were on the road. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to broach the subject of what would happen once they reached Jericho.

Beck contacted Clark when they left the safehouse to inform him of their location and ETA. Clark confirmed their route was stable - and told them that an escort would be sent to meet them and get them safely home.

After Beck disconnected the phone, Heather and Beck took some time to discuss Beck's plans for the rest of the day after they got to Jericho.

"Clark will need to brief me," Beck said calmly. "God knows I need clean clothes, and a shave," he added ruefully, scratching his cheek; he had decided against shaving that morning in favour of having more time to make love with her. "Depending on what Clark has to tell me, I'll also need to meet with Jake and Gray."

Heather glanced over at him with a smile, and then turned her attention back to the road. "You'll have a long day once we get home," she observed.

"Heather - " Beck began after a long moment of silence.

"You should try to get some sleep," she hastily interrupted him. She didn't want to talk about what would happen once they got to Jericho. She wanted to pretend for a few more hours that the biggest decision they would have to make was whether they met at her place or his. "You don't know when you'll be able to sleep once we get back," she continued. "Who knows what's really been happening since we've been gone. I mean, why do you think they're sending an escort?"

Beck blinked at her, and then followed her change of subject. "Just a precaution. I hope."

They discussed the reasoning behind the escort for a few minutes before Heather said again, "You should try to sleep."

Beck hesitated, then nodded. With one last look at her, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

Heather drove steadily, keeping a watchful eye on the road behind them as well as in front of them. She resolutely refused to think about what lay ahead of them in Jericho; instead, her thoughts were behind them, back in New Mexico, and with Maggie - wherever she may be.

She refused to believe Maggie was dead - not until she had proof. She had hope - she _had_ to have hope - that there were still miracles left. That good things still happened. That sometimes you still got what you wanted.

She wanted Beck to have his daughter, even if he couldn't have Simone.

She remembered Simone's and William's graves, and Beck on his knees, head bowed. The vulnerability in his posture as he mourned his wife - divorce bedamned. The look in his eyes when he looked at the locket looped around the cross on Simone's grave, how the locket had gleamed in the sun as he lifted it.

She bit her lip and blinked back tears. Maggie must have loved her mother very much. Simone's grave had had the only ornamentation. Of course, what did anybody have left, Heather wondered. And to leave behind what was probably the last thing Maggie still had from her mother -

Beck awoke with a start when Heather hit the brakes, his gun in his hand as he frantically looked around for whatever had stopped them.

He stared at the empty Kansas landscape and turned to Heather with wide, startled eyes. She was staring back at him, her own eyes wide and shocked.

"What?" he demanded, still primed for battle.

"The locket," she whispered. "The locket!"

Beck blinked at her. " _Simone's_ locket?" he asked.

"Yes! Did you take it with you?"

"No - it belonged to Simone, and Maggie obviously wanted it left there."

"Damn it!" Heather groaned and pounded the steering wheel. "Why didn't I think of it _before_?"

"What? Think of - " he stopped and now his eyes were wide with horrified realization. "Damn it - Maggie left a message in the locket!"

"Maybe - "

"No maybe about it! Maggie would never have parted with it without good reason. Or - " He stopped abruptly.

"She's not dead," Heather insisted. "I refuse to even think it's a possibility. You call Clark - I'm turning this thing around."

Beck dialed the phone with one hand while holding on with the other as Heather whipped a u-turn and floored the car back towards the safehouse. Heather listened with half an ear as she drove and she knew immediately from the tone of his voice that they couldn't go back to New Mexico.

With a heavy sigh, Beck closed the phone and stared straight ahead as Heather slowed and then turned the car around again, and headed back towards Jericho.

"Look," she said after several minutes of heavy silence, "we don't have to delay too much. The main thing is to get the locket. We could send a couple of your men to quickly go to New Mexico and grab the locket and then we can go to the next step."

"We can't send any of my men to New Mexico," Beck sighed. "The ASA is getting suspicious, and Constantino's becoming more and more aggressive. He's attacked my men the last three times they've gone between Jericho and New Bern. That's why they're sending an escort for us - Constantino's been watching all roads in and out of Jericho, and Clark, Hawkins and Jake weren't sure we'd get through on our own. Especially if Constantino recognizes us."

"Is he letting Dale through?"

"Apparently, but that's for his own benefit as well since Dale also supplies New Bern."

"Could we send Dale, then?"

"That's a possibility," he conceded, "but Dale and his crew tend to shoot first and ask questions later when they're on the road, and Dale's arrogance and recklessness is going to get him killed one of these days, if he isn't careful." He met Heather's look and shrugged. "It's a dangerous world - as you've noticed. Dale and his crew know Kansas and the local trading network extremely well; how they would fare outside of that environment is the question, and I'm not willing to take the chance."

"How about Tomas or Gregory? Can we get word to them somehow?"

"Antelope Wells is off the communications grid, and I never found out where Tomas lives when he's in Mexico. Did you?" She shook her head. "So, we have no direct way to get a message to them."

"Maybe we could get a message to them through the trading post we stopped at yesterday."

Beck pondered then shook his head. "There's no guarantee the message will get through, and it would take time, especially since we'd have to wait for Tomas to stop there again." He fluently cursed, frustrated. Heather glanced at him, concerned.

Beck shook his head. "I just - I can't _believe_ I didn't realize while we were there. I let her down," he said softly.

"Beck," Heather replied, "you'd just found Simone's grave. And then we found the children. I don't think you were thinking of messages being left in lockets."

Beck wasn't sure if he was relieved or disappointed that she didn't mention that they had also discovered each other - and the added distraction that had caused.

Heather glanced at him. "Having sex didn't cause us to lose sight of our purpose, you know."

Beck stared at her.

"Like I'm not thinking the same things?" Heather asked drily.

He smiled slightly and sighed. "I just...I failed her."

"Not yet," Heather stated with conviction. She glanced over at him. "Not ever." She reached over and entwined her fingers with his.

He kissed her fingers and held her hand in silence, frowning.

"Maybe..." he said slowly.

"Maybe...?" Heather prompted when he didn't say anything else.

"Maybe I can call in a favor from one of my contacts in Texas. Get _him_ to go to the cave dwellings; have him go through Antelope Wells in case Gregory is there and can guide him. Have him bring the locket here."

"Won't that break the truce?"

"Yes. But it's the fastest way. And, like our field trip, it only breaks the truce if we get caught."

"What about he goes to Antelope Wells and talks to Manny and Frankie? Have them ask Tomas to bring the locket? Nobody said anything about civilians coming to Jericho, did they?"

"No, they didn't," Beck chuckled. He thought about this suggestion for a few moments. "You're right," he conceded. "It's the best way, and may be the fastest. Even though the locket may not have anything from Maggie," he added.

Heather nodded. "But we have to try," she said earnestly.

Beck looked at her, his gaze solemn. "We have to try," he agreed, and picked up the phone.

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	19. Chapter 19

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They spent the next hour in tense silence. They weren't uncomfortable with each other, but with the situation - both the one behind them and the one approaching them. When they met the men sent to escort them back to town, they pulled over and Clark hurried to the car to ask Beck to ride back to Jericho with him in one of the humvees while a corporal rode with Heather.

Beck hesitated for a moment, then nodded. He turned to Heather. "I'll see you in town," he said, then gave her a quick, hard kiss before he got out of the car. Clark's jaw dropped, and then he grinned as Beck strode purposely towards the humvee. Clark gave Heather a wink before he followed his commanding officer.

*/*/*/*/*

Heather felt an enormous sense of deja vu as she bit into the hamburger and closed her eyes with pleasure.

"No fresh food for weeks?" Mary asked lightly.

Heather chuckled as she chewed, savoring the meal. "Just the last one," she replied.

"But I see you've had something fresh recently. Or _somebody_."

Heather stared at her. "What?" she asked blankly.

"You haven't actually looked in a mirror for awhile, have you?" Mary asked drily.

Realization dawned and Heather's hand slapped over the hickeys on her neck. She blushed furiously and put her other hand over her face.

Mary grinned at Heather's embarrassment. On the one hand, she was glad that Heather wasn't just hanging around, waiting in the wings for Jake's inevitable break-up with Emily. On the other hand, having a fling with some random guy she'd only recently met wasn't Mary's first choice for Heather at all.

Mary grinned as Heather sighed and met Mary's gaze.

"So?" Mary asked, leaning closer. "Tell me all about him."

Heather blinked at her for a moment. "Him?"

"Yeah, _him_ ," she laughed, gesturing at Heather's neck. "Where did you meet, and how on earth did you manage to get some private time while travelling with Beck? I would have expected him to watch you like a hawk."

Heather stared at Mary, stunned. "Ummm...," she finally said, struggling to keep a straight face, "it was a lot easier than you might think."

"Good lord - he didn't find a, er, friend himself, did he?" Mary asked with interest.

"In a, uh, manner of speaking," Heather replied.

"I never would have expected that of him," Mary said, shaking her head. "But who am I to judge, right?"

"Well," Heather replied, "he _was_ separated from his wife before the Attacks."

"Really? Well, anyway," Mary said, waving away the distraction, "enough about him. Tell me about, you know, the _other_ him."

"There is no other him, Mary," Heather responded calmly.

"It was a _woman_?" Mary shrieked, causing every head in the place to turn in their direction.

Heather burst out laughing, hiding her face in her hands. "No! I mean, it's Beck! My "him" is Beck!"

Mary gaped at her, then sat back with a stunned "oof". Heather shrugged her shoulders with a rueful smile.

"Wow," Mary finally said, getting her voice working again. "Well. _Wow_. I...I mean, I'm glad you're having a fling - but _Beck_?" she hissed.

"Oh, sure, you shrieked it out when you thought it was a woman," Heather laughed, "but you're keeping it down because it's Beck?" Heather shook her head and grinned at her, still laughing.

"But it's Beck! He's done some pretty nasty things. What about what he did to Jake?"

Heather thoughtfully chewed a fry. "The world has changed, Mary," she slowly said. "We've all done things we didn't expect we'd ever have to do. We've all become more ruthless when it comes to survival. Jake, Hawkins, Eric, Dale, you and me and Emily - we've all changed. And if we deserve understanding and acceptance, then Beck deserves it, too."

Mary shook her head. "It's apples and oranges," she protested.

Heather shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Well, this _is_ just a fling though, right? Just until Jake wakes up and smells the coffee about his relationship with Emily?"

Heather shook her head. "No," she replied with a soft smile. "This isn't even _close_ to being "just" a fling."

"Look, the two of you were out there, alone. In danger. It's natural to be attracted to each other. No one would judge you because you had a road trip fling. But now you're back and - Jake's here."

"Number one, Jake is with Emily - "

"No, I mean he's _here_. In Bailey's. And he's coming this way."

Jake rushed up, pulled Heather to her feet, enveloped her in one of his patented, Jake Green bear hugs and held her tight. "You're okay?" He held her away and searched her face, his eyes alight with relief at seeing her back safe and sound. Then his eyes fell upon the livid marks on her neck.

"What - who?" He searched Heather's face. "Did _he_ \- My God," he breathed.

"Jake - "

"I'll kill the son of a bitch!" He spun around and rushed to the door.

"Jake! _Jake!_ NO!" Heather yelled, running after him.

She caught up to him on Main Street, halfway to the sheriff's office. She grabbed his arm and dragged him forceably to a halt.

"Jake!" she demanded, "what do you think you're doing?"

"Look at you!" he cried. "Look at your neck! Look at what he did to you!"

"Oh, what - you've never seen a hickey before?" Heather snapped sarcastically. "Or given one?".

Jake stared at her. "Are you saying you were _willing_?"

"Of course I was willing! What did you - ? Honestly, Jake, you need to start giving him the benefit of the doubt. Besides, this is _none_ of your business!" she glanced around at the circle of interested onlookers they had gathered. "And it's none of _their_ business either! If you would bother taking a minute to _think_ once in a while, things would be a whole lot better."

"Heather!" Jake stared at her, shocked, his eyes wide and hurt.

Heather gave an exasperated, albeit affectionate sigh. "Come with me. Let's take this conversation out of the limelight."

She grabbed his hand and tugged him behind her towards her house.

Beck followed Clark out of the sheriff's office in time to see Heather leading Jake away by the hand. He stood at the top of the stairs staring after them until Clark turned back to him.

"Major?" he asked, his voice carrying clearly down Main Street. Every head within earshot whipped towards them and Beck suddenly found himself the focus of at least ten pairs of curious eyes.

He suddenly felt strangely vulnerable in his jeans and t-shirt, his face dark with the day-old stubble he hadn't yet had an opportunity to shave. He glanced around and his gaze stopped at Mary who was literally gaping at him. He cocked his head and frowned at her; his eyes flicked in the direction where Jake and Heather had disappeared and then back to Mary.

"Please wait a moment, Commander," he said, and trotted down the stairs past Clark and walked towards Mary, his puzzled frown deepening as her eyes seemed to grow even larger as he approached.

"Mary?" Beck questioned. "Are you all right? What's going on?"

Mary stared at him. "Holy _crap_ ," she blurted.

Beck's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?" he asked, glancing around, completely lost.

Mary's shock gave way to a wicked grin. She lowered her voice and leaned closer, "I understand now why Heather has hickeys on her neck." She lowered her voice even more. "And why she looked so happy about it."

Mary grinned wider at the dull flush that crept into Beck's face. She patted his arm with a laugh, and then turned and went back into Bailey's.

Beck blinked after her, then shook his head and went back to Clark, ignoring the others on the street.

*/*/*/*/*

Heather had dragged Jake to her house and had been arguing with him for the last half hour. She alternated between trying to calm him down and trying to get him to accept her new relationship with Beck. Jake for his part alternated between wanting to accept whatever made her happy, and wanting to run Beck out of town on a rail. Preferably in tar and feathers.

"I'm not a child, Jake," Heather finally said, exasperated. "I'm fully capable of make my own choices."

"It'll never work, Heather," Jake warned. "Sooner or later, he and I will have a showdown, and trust me - I won't be the one leaving this town."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Jake," Heather quietly replied. "If you would just keep your head out of your ass long enough, you would know we need him."

"I know we need him - but we don't want him!" Jake snapped.

"Well, _I_ do! I want him! I want him here, protecting us. I want him here, with me. I want him here, where I can protect him! And I want him _here_ , part of this town, welcome wherever he goes."

"That's asking too much, Heather."

"Really? Why?"

"Because he tortured me! He terrorized this town! And for what? To avenge the death of a monster! We can't trust him!"

Heather stared at Jake for a long moment. "Think about everything you've done since the Attacks, Jake," she said gently. "Think about what Hawkins has done. Think about what Hawkins did _before_ the Attacks."

Jake flinched slightly. "We don't need Beck's tactics," he argued.

"Be honest, Jake," she said. "You would call on him in a second - tactics and all - if you had a use for him. Wouldn't you? If you needed to get information from somebody, you would let Beck do whatever he needed to do. You would expect him to use whatever means were necessary - wouldn't you?"

Jake stared at her, trying to come up with an answer. He wanted to say no - he wanted to say he would find another way - but he couldn't lie to Heather. Not while she was looking at him with those honest, innocent eyes.

"I can't deny it," Jake muttered, breaking eye contact with her.

"He told me we couldn't turn a blind eye to what happens to others and then scream injustice when it happens to us. It took me a while, but I have to agree. If we would accept his tactics to protect this town, then we have to accept him. _You_ have to accept him."

Jake sighed. "I'm not going to be best friends with him, Heather. Not even for you."

Heather cocked her head. "I don't expect you to," she replied softly. "I don't even expect you to forgive him. But at least stop threatening to kill him. That would help."

Jake gave a reluctant chuckle. "Well, I think I can go that far, at least," he agreed, "but I'm making no other promises."

Heather laughed. "I'm not asking for any," she replied and hugged him.

After Jake left, Heather got reaquainted with her house. It was both familiar and alien to her after six weeks away. She would reopen the garage tomorrow, she decided, but for the rest of the day she would just take some time for herself, to get herself resettled in her surroundings.

At five o'clock, she headed to the sheriff's office. Not because she thought Beck would be able to break for supper with her but to find out when he thought he would be off duty and determine where they should meet.

It felt decidedly odd that she didn't know where he was or that she didn't have some idea of his schedule.

She didn't like it. At all.

Beck wasn't at the sheriff's office. He was out with his commanders assessing damage caused by Constantino's recent attacks. The relief was clear in the men's voices, faces and postures as they told her what was happening.

"Did he leave a message for me?" she asked the almost painfully young private behind the front desk, trying to sound like it was something she was expecting rather than something she was hoping.

"Sorry, ma'am," he replied, shaking his head. He didn't look familiar to Heather, and she wondered if she had met him before.

She nodded, thanked him and turned to leave, hoping her disappointment wasn't too obvious.

"Ma'am?" the private called. She turned back and gave him a questioning look. "Welcome back ma'am," the private hastily blurted with a shy smile. "I just wanted you to know that we're _really_ glad the Major's back - and that you're back, too," he added.

She grinned at him. "We're glad to be back, too," she replied, although she wondered if that was really true from Beck's perspective. He had found a level of acceptance in Antelope Wells that Jericho was not prepared to give him.

Yet.

As she walked towards Bailey's Heather knew things were going to change now that they were back in Jericho. After all, their trip was like a piece out of time. Now they were back in their real world, with their very real and very serious responsibilities. Beck had to again become the commanding officer of the largest hostile armed force in ASA territory - and the most hated man in Jericho. She had to once again become the town's Ms Fix-it, the Jill-of-all-Trades, all things to everyone.

Heather knew Beck was expecting her to distance herself from him. Had expected it from the moment they left the safe house. And the damn thing was, he would let her, too, if that was what she wanted. The way he'd made love to her this morning told her he'd let her walk away from him. He'd made love to her like he was imprinting her on his memory, and on his body - memorizing her tastes, her sounds, the way she felt, the way she looked.

Even as she shook her head at his pessimism, she understood the reasons for that assumption. He _was_ the most hated man in Jericho, and she had allied herself with the town in that respect. But alliances change, she thought as she opened the door to Bailey's. It _was_ going to be different, but with her support and Jake's help, she hoped that Beck would eventually earn the same kind of acceptance he had found in New Mexico.

She smiled at Mary as she walked up to the bar. "Hi," she said.

"Hi," Mary replied. "No food at home?"

"Nope. And I won't be able to get any until tomorrow."

Mary nodded. "I'll get you something to eat. And here," she handed Heather a folded piece of paper.

"What's this?" Heather asked with a puzzled frown.

"From Beck," Mary winked, then moved to serve a couple of off-duty soldiers down the bar.

Heather hesitantly unfolded the note, and couldn't help the smile and the relief that ballooned in her chest. It wasn't anything special; just a quick, impersonal note telling her he would be gone until very late and that he would talk to her tomorrow. But it proved that he hadn't forgotten her in the flurry of duties and demands on his time that currently surrounded him, and that - like her - he didn't want to lose what they had found.

"Hot love letter?" Mary teased when she came back.

Heather laughed. "No. But it feels like it. And for no apparent reason."

*/*/*/*/*

It was very late when Beck finally made it back to the tiny house he'd called home since he'd arrived in Jericho. He hadn't spoken to Heather since they had parted company on the road, and he hadn't seen her since he saw her walking away with Jake. He tiredly glanced at his watch as he opened the door. He reluctantly decided that one in the morning was far too late to go to a woman's house, especially if she wasn't expecting you.

Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would find her and they would determine what happened next.

They were back in their reality, he thought as he tiredly removed his boots at the door, their trip already felt like a dream and the responsibilities of protecting this town and surviving already wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak. Beck wondered if what they had started in New Mexico would - or could - survive now that they were back.

He flicked on the hall light, padded through the open bedroom door, and stopped short. Heather was curled up under the covers, her brown hair spread out on the pillow.

The feelings that expanded through him were so jumbled and confused he couldn't name them all. Relief. Happiness. Hope.

Love.

He quickly stripped, turned of the hall light and crawled naked into bed beside her. With a sigh, he curved around her, resting his forehead on her shoulder. She smelled wonderful, and felt even better. He didn't know what the future held, but he finally had hope that it included the woman he held in his arms.

##### 


End file.
